


Lost and Found

by kailiff



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, borderline stalking, idk how tags work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailiff/pseuds/kailiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Demyx. I'm a joke, a fraud, a phony. I don't know how it all happened; I hadn't meant for it to. I found a notebook on the bus, I read it, I became hopelessly obsessed. It wasn't something I'd meant to go so far. Zemyx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> This is a carry-over from ff.net. Well... sort of. The original fanfic I wrote in '09/'10 and was a long oneshot. I've decided to revamp it and break it into chapters. Will probably have four of five chapters. I hope you enjoy my fanfic. ; u ; ps the summary is awful hope the actual fic makes up for that?? dsfkjd
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://lullabyshark.tumblr.com/)

January 25th

Zexion really hated taking the bus.

When he took the bus, he was forced to accompany legions of foul, sweaty people. He had to endure being squished to the wall of the vehicle and other bodies pressing against him. There was little air, and of what air there was he certainly did not enjoy breathing–sensitive nose, always been a bother. Rarely did he ever find an empty seat, and it was always either claimed before he got there or some detestable person sat next to him. These were among some of the many things he hated about going on the city bus. There were more reasons. Of course there were. He, however, didn't want to waste his time and sanity away thinking of all of them at once.

However much Zexion despised public buses, after work he found himself standing at a bus stop a block away, frowning. Always frowning. The bone-cracking cold made sure he couldn't walk anywhere comfortably. There was also the rather unfortunate circumstance of his apartment being much too far away to even think of walking. He definitely didn't want to walk twelve blocks in this cold. Zexion shivered.

The bus arrived–late–and Zexion stepped on, arms crossed, and twisting his face into the most threatening expression he could muster. Less chance of people sitting near him that way. Dusty exhaust billowed into his face, but he supposed he was glad to be out of the frigid January air. Zexion slid his bus card through the slot and looked around, surprised to see there were very few other people on the bus, which left several seats open for grabs. His scary face subsided. If Zexion were a bit of a peppier person, he might have even done a dance. Then again, he probably would not have minded going on the bus so much if that were the case.

Zexion chose a spot as far away from everyone else as he could and sat down. Or he would have, rather, if there wasn't some ridiculous giant notebook sitting there instead. Five subjects, spiral bound. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the object before picking it up and sitting in its place. Turning it over in his hands, Zexion saw it was just a regular, old notebook. It was probably some little kid's, and they'd just left it on the bus by accident.

'Keep out! My secret journal!' was written all over the frayed cover with various colored Sharpie. The smell was absolutely toxic. Little stickers of happy faces, rainbows, music notes, fish, band logos, you name it, were spattered across the cover. In the corner was a large sticker displaying the Squeenix record label logo, one of the biggest labels in the country. On the back were several random doodles. Zexion smirked. He had to admit, it was kind of cute. This kid sure made the notebook their own. He was never this creative as a kid.

He supposed he could turn it in to the police, but there was no name on it, no way to identify the owner. What a shame. The kid was probably worried to bits over their well-decorated notebook. No doubt it was filled with terrible handwriting and childlike tales.

He placed the notebook next to him and made a mental note to remember it, unlike the actual owner of the book. He didn't want the bus driver to have to deal with it, he probably dealt with enough as it was. Zexion soon found himself wondering what might be in the notebook. Who knows, whatever silly tales the kid had written about might cheer him up. Something like, "Today my sister at the last cookie, so I imagined her head being eaten by a dragon." Kids these days said the darnedest things. He extended his hand and... no, forget it. Zexion understood privacy, and he was not one to meddle with such things, not even a child's notebook. He himself was an enthusiastic supporter of having private bubbles in which no one was allowed enter, let alone touch personal belongings.

But still, Zexion picked it up thoughtlessly and turned the cover. He mentally swore at himself for breaking his own rules. There was something about the journal, however, that drew him to it. If magic were real, he could say it was a spell. That was preposterous, though, because magic was not real and had never been real and he was an idiot for even thinking about it. This kid really should have gotten a journal with a lock. It would have been much safer. They also should have put their name on it, but that was beside the point.

The first page was interesting enough, as well as short. The script on the page, if it could be called that, was messy. A scrawl. Terrible handwriting, as expected. It was worse than a doctor's handwriting, really, but there was something about it that seemed friendly in a way.

" _June 9_

_Dear journal,_

_Happy birthday, me! And you, I suppose. Somehow this is the first journal I've ever owned, or, well, it's just a regular old notebook that I decided would be used as a journal. Pretty sweet, huh? I have something to write down all my yucky, emotional feelings and stuff down on, isn't that neat? I was thinking of using it for writing lyrics, too. I think that'd be pretty great. Who am I talking to, anyway? It's not like you can talk back to me, can you, journal? But whatever. My journal, my rulez. I can talk to a journal if I want. Or maybe I'm drunk, I dunno, I've had a few drinks._

_So anyway, y'know, the other day I was boozing it up with Axel and Roxas. Well, I mean, before they scampered off to go do whatever they do. Thank god they left before they started screwing on the table. That would have been embarrassing. I mean, they do love each other, but they have the hormones of 13-year-old boys. I would think they'd have at least waited until they got back to their apartment or something before their fireworks flew around and hit people in the face because that's gotta be messy. C'est la vie, or something like that._

_But things like that kinda make me wonder, y'know? The dating scene! Or, I mean, the lack of one. Axel thinks I'm stupid for waiting for 'the one' or whatever, but he didn't have to wait so long. He and Roxas met in middle school. Oh well, I guess that whole deal can be some inspiration for a new song or something. I am kinda jealous, though. Lucky bastards._

_Well, I don't really have anything else to say._

_Oh! Wait, wait, wait, good news! Drum roll please... That whore music professor of mine finally promised to help me get a record deal! He's gonna give me the number of some label next week. Think about it, my band's gonna be famous some day! Our name will be in lights. Can you see it? Of course not, you're just a journal. What am I even talking about. Hahahaha. Well anyway, bye. Keep ya posted._ "

The entry ended and Zexion looked out the window, brows stitched together. This did not sounds like a little kid. Little kids did not booze it up with their two friends who made out right in front of them. Little kids did not usually talk about the many people they have dated. Little kids did not usually call their music professors whores, nor did they usually have professors. Little kids usually were not about to get a record deal that would make their bands famous. Zexion did not think this notebook belonged to a little kid anymore. What's more, he found he had a sudden and unexplainable urge to read more.

On the next page was a sheet of lyrics. The words had been erased and written over many times, which turned the paper gray. The page was thin and worn down. Some eraser bits still lingered on the page, flattened by the notebook opening and closing over time. The owner of the journal probably worked on this song a lot. Zexion stared at it, trying to decode the wording.

It was a nice song, he surmised. The lyrics were poetic, which seemed to be a plus. They didn't make much sense. Some odd words and phrases were used, and sometimes the handwriting seemed a bit forced. Seemed to tell some kind of story. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to be very emotional, although Zexion had already been able to tell that from the first entry. The song was interesting, but not enough to keep looking at it. Zexion turned the page to find another entry. He sighed, glanced around the bus, and got down to reading.

" _June 16_

_Hey journal, whats up?_

_Sooooo, it's been a week. My professor still hasn't decided which label to help me get into. I wonder who it's gonna be? I hope he's actually doing it. Shit, I hope it's Squeenix! Okay, probably not. They're too famous to take on a little band like ours. But if it WAS, well, I would be very, VERY excited. Alright, that's an understatement, but you get it. But can you imagine? Melodious Nocturne, our hit single at the top of the charts! We're gonna be famous, our name in lights. You can be our first groupie, journal, ol' buddy, ol' pal._

_I could rant more, sooo much more. But I think I'll keep it super short. Oh, but my song's coming along nicely. I've only come up with like, a verse or two, but it's still pretty good. I'm content with it so far. It's a song for Axel and Roxas. Their anniversary's coming up in a bit. Can you tell? Haha, what am I doing, asking my journal? How silly of me. Well, now I have class. I'll write later. Bye._ "

Zexion felt a small tug at his lips, the faintest of smiles. He couldn't even think how to describe this person. He was different. He was downright weird, an idiot, and far more emotion-driven than anyone he had ever met. Well, Zexion had never actually met this person. He didn't even know anything about him other than he was a probably a college student and was in a band. Also, he was not a little kid, contrary to what he had previously thought. Can't forget that part.

The bus slowed to a stop and Zexion looked out the window almost in a daze. How long had he been reading? He glanced around, and suddenly his heart leaped right out of his chest as he realized where he was. How could he have missed his stop? He was so engrossed in this person's journal he'd zoned out and hand't been paying attention to where he was. Zexion's frown returned and he sighed as he hurried out of the bus, taking the journal with him. He'd have to walk the rest of the way home. He certainly was not acting himself.

Glancing at the street signs, Zexion deduced he only had to walk five blocks in the other direction to get home, which in all reality was much better than twelve, but still unpleasant. With a shiver he hugged the notebook to his chest.

Was he really going to bring it to the police? Would the police even take it? There was no way to identify the owner, what were they going to do? Put up signs? They could just throw it away. Zexion sighed and tried to ignore his breath puffing around his face like a smokestack. Damn, it was cold.

January was a dreaded month. He sloshed through the snow and blistering cold. The wind nipped at his skin and little crystalline gems stuck to his eyelashes, as well as to the shock of slate-color hair that covered one of his eyes. Was it supposed to get this cold in the city? What's more, the cars and buildings probably even made it warmer than in the country, which was a crime against humanity. Sooner or later he managed to make it back to his warm studio apartment in one piece. One frozen piece. Panting, he placed the notebook on a counter and took off his soaking-wet winter jacket, making sure to hang it on a peg next to the door. His shoes were covered in the snow that hadn't unstuck itself on his way to the door, and he was pretty sure his toes were icicles. Sighing and rubbing his neck, Zexion slowly shuffled to the bathroom where he happily took a very hot shower so he wouldn't get frostbite. Afterward, he went right to bed.

. • • • .

January 26th

The next day, Zexion had to take the bus again. Figured.

Once he got on the bus and swiped his card, he took hold of one of the loops hanging from the ceiling. No seats today, too many people. He was sending death glares towards the good people of the city who had unfortunately chosen to get on the same bus as him that day. Each glare was a warning. No one better come near him.

A few minutes later at another stop, Zexion noticed one particular person coming in. Several people got on, but this person stood out. He looked ridiculous, or at least he did to Zexion. Zexion was a bit bland, and anyone remotely interesting could have looked ridiculous to him. The man was a dirty blond, but that was not the strange part. His hair was shaped in some sort of mohawk-mullet hybrid, and he had a couple piercings. The thing about this man Zexion found the most vexing was that he was walking right toward him, as if he couldn't see his clearly defined personal bubble. Zexion hated it when people were in his personal bubble.

To Zexion's great discomfort, the blond stood next to him. Zexion made a point to frown a lot and avoid eye contact, all the while wringing the strap of his bag in his fingers. He could hear blasting rock music leaking from his neighbor's headphones very well, despite the bus being crowded and noisy. The blond's eyes were closed and he was rocking his head softly back and forth. Zexion looked around for other places this rapscallion could have gone, but found none. He stared at his shoes.

Well, he had to admit it wasn't all bad. His neighbor didn't smell awful, and it wasn't like he was trying to talk to him. He was just minding his own business. It could have been a lot worse, but that didn't stop Zexion from scowling and tensing up.

At the next stop, the man got off and Zexion heaved a sigh of relief. He had survived.

. • • • .

January 27th

The next morning, as Zexion was rushing around trying to get ready before his first class, his eyes fell on the notebook. He had forgotten about it. He kind of wanted to keep reading it but felt it would be weird and creepy if he did. It was kind of stalker-ish. It would sort of be like reading the diary of Anne Frank, but this journal was not a published book for the public to read. It was just him, and that was a little weird.

At last second, Zexion did decide to pick it up again and cautiously read it on his way to class. He'd just have to deal with being a little weird.

On his way home, Zexion thought about getting something hot to drink. He wasn't exactly eager to get home, and he could spare a few minutes just getting something to drink. There were a lot of little cafés on campus, some good for studying, some not. College towns always had cafés by the dozen. In fact, if he was sure he knew where he was, there was a small café not too far away. Probably more than just one, too. Zexion propelled himself in that direction.

The coffee shop he chose was small and quaint, but it was also one of the better ones Hallow Bastion had to offer. Good coffee, he'd heard, but hadn't tried any. The Divine Rose strived to have somewhat of a romantic atmosphere to it, and in that light furnished itself in mostly red. Rose-shaped decorations adorned the walls. All the red was a bit aggravating on his eyes, but it sold hot beverages, which was just what Zexion wanted at the moment.

As he stepped into the café, Zexion's nasal passages were immediately assaulted by various scents and smells ranging from special coffee blends to pastries to finger sandwiches. A bit winded, he suppressed a cough. He disliked being in the presence of so many different smells. Made it hard to think straight. Zexion sighed. If he wanted to get his drink, he had to suck it up.

The clerk–barista?–on the register severely matched the color scheme of the café. He was red. Very red. His hair, tied back out of his face with what appeared to be a (red) scrunchie, was the brightest auburn Zexion had ever seen. Under his eyes, which were a very bright, almost unnatural shade of green, where two diamond-shaped tattoos. His clean, pressed apron and shirt were red and even his name tag was red. Too much red. Too much red in this whole place.

There was a blond person in front of Zexion, and the clerk, who Zexion saw was named Axel, was leaning against the counter and flirting with him. The clerk, or Axel, wasn't very successful, because the blond looked rather annoyed as a whole. The redhead was persistent, which made Zexion sigh and roll his eyes because who knew when he would ever get his drink.

"You, me, a romantic dinner at sunset? What do you say?" Axel asked, winking at the blond, who only groaned.

"I'm Ven," he said simply, albeit with annoyance and exhaustion. "Axel, we've gone over this in the past. I'm Ven, not Roxas." He stretched out his words so even a small child could understand them. There seemed to be a mix-up.

Zexion froze, thoughts and words finally catching up to him. Axel and Roxas? Those names sounded awfully familiar. Zexion knit his eyebrows together in thought. Axel, Roxas, Axel, Roxas. Why did they sound familiar? Then, as if a light bulb appeared above his head, Zexion suddenly remembered who Axel and Roxas were and his face turned white.

A big guy with long, brown hair walked up to them and shot Axel a look that was all but happy before wrapping his arms around the blond's torso, picking him up, and carrying him away toward the pick-up counter, still shooting looks at Axel every odd step as he went.

"Keep your pyromaniac hands off him," the man warned as he went. "This is my twin."

"Well, sorry! It's just that Roxy and Ven look so similar!" the redhead returned, giving a sheepish smile.

"That's because we're twins, stupid," a boy who looked exactly like the blond in front of Zexion exclaimed from a table across the shop, face in his phone.

Zexion sighed, wanting all this nonsense to be done with. It was all too stupid and shouldn't have been happening in the first place, really. What if Axel's manager showed up? So he rubbed his temple and cleared his throat to inform them of his presence.

"I'd like to order, please," he announced to the clerk, shooting him a curt look. Axel's face reddened slightly at being caught goofing around during work hours and returned to his post. Zexion glanced at the overhead menu before telling Axel his order—regular, old hot chocolate—while pulling the money out of his pocket, grabbing the receipt and walking over to the pick-up area. No nonsense.

The blond, or "Ven," was just getting his drink when Zexion approached. The brown-haired man was standing right next to him, leaning against the counter and looking very big and very tall. Wasn't that how mother bears protected their young? Ven glanced up at Zexion.

"Sorry Axel's so dumb," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

"He can't even tell the difference between us," Roxas pointed out, walking up and taking Ven's beverage right out of his hands before taking a sip. This made the other blond pout. Zexion had to admit, he couldn't tell the difference either. He didn't even get a chance to respond to that because the small group crowded around Axel again, talking about this and that. Where in the world was Axel's manager?

Zexion's drink was done and placed on the pick-up counter, with some eccentric pink-haired man hollering out the order. He tossed his hair afterward and Zexion would have been damned if he had actually seen rose petals flying around when it happened.

On his way out, Zexion overheard something that made his ears prick up. He strained to listen, trying not to seem too obvious.

"Did you hear that Dem lost his notebook?"

"Yeah, he seemed pretty bummed about it. I wonder what could be in it to make him so down?"

"Well, he's had that thing for a while..."

Stomach churning, Zexion straightened his back, took a deep breath, and touched the journal to make sure it was still safe inside his bag. He left as quickly as possible.

. • • • .

Who was Dem? was that the person who lost this journal? Was it short for something? Demetri? Demerol? Demingo? Dem with some other ridiculous suffix attached? Zexion wanted to know all about this person. Who was he? Where did he go to school? His major? What did he look like? Hobbies? Musical interests? Favorite color? Despite having read much of his journal, Zexion knew surprisingly little about its owner.

Zexion found himself thinking about Dem more often than not. At work he stared off into space. He tripped over himself and was becoming clumsy. He was becoming more and more unlike himself. Over the next week, Zexion continued to read the journal. He would read two or three entries a day. Many more pages were just lyrics.

Apparently this guy made it big, or at least he did on a minor level. He was still pretty underground, doing mostly coffee shop and bar gigs. He was somewhat well-known, though, among the local music scene, and Zexion overheard some people talking about Melodious Nocturne on the bus. If he was so well-known, why didn't Zexion know about him? He figured it was most likely because he was not as interested in music as he was in high school, though it was more likely because he didn't socialize much.

Zexion noticed he started looking out for anything that started with "Dem," just in case it had some information about this Dem person. If he heard or saw something similar to those three letters, he would become very interested. So interested, in fact, that his heart would jump and his face would heat up. His throat went dry and his palms would sweat and he had trouble talking. Or at least that's what he  _would_ have done if he were not Zexion. On the outside, Zexion was so stoic that no one would have had even the slightest doubt he was just as straight-faced as always. The inside, however, was a completely different story.

Zexion brought the notebook with him everywhere. He brought it to work, to classes, when he went out to eat or when he visited friends, studied, and he kept it on his bedside table when he went to sleep. Almost every night Zexion stared at his ceiling feeling very bad about this whole thing. He felt like a stalker. He was becoming obsessed with a person he didn't even know. Sometimes he got the urge to just throw the thing away. He probably should have. But he was holding on because, really, it was a rush. It was exciting. It occurred to him he could just look up the band on the internet, but he was nervous. A part of him wanted Dem's identity to stay secret.

Zexion found out Melodious Nocturne had recorded an EP. Then he was memorizing the songs and singing them to himself when he was alone or when he didn't think anyone could hear him. It wasn't what he usually listened to, but he didn't tend to listen to much music. He told himself he was experimenting and broadening his horizons. He didn't fool himself much.


	2. February I

February 10th

The walk to work was slippery and wet. Glad he wore boots, Zexion shivered and pushed open the door of his place of employment, a joint in downtown Hollow Bastion called Fenrir, which was run by a man named Cloud. They served small, simple dishes, as well as various types of alcohol. It was at some half-way point between a café and a pub. Zexion didn't particularly enjoy working there, didn't much like the service industry, but it got him money, so he didn't complain much.

As he fled to the back room and hid the notebook with the rest of his stuff, he noticed there was only one other person serving that night. Zexion walked out to the main area of the shop, apron-clad, and greeted his co-worker, Luxord, who mixed drinks, and gave a curt nod to Vexen, the only other server. Then he heard the small bell above the door ring, which could only mean customers.

"Oh, hey, you're that guy," came a familiar voice.

Zexion turned around and saw the voice behind that vague statement belonged to one of the blonds from the café, who had just entered the establishment, hand entangled with Axel's. Another person followed closely behind. Zexion had to stop his jaw from breaking off, because it was the same man that had stood next to him on the bus only a few days earlier. He watched as they walked in and sat at table six... one of his tables.

"Oh, hello," Zexion replied after a pause. He had never been formally introduced to either Axel or Roxas, despite knowing who they were. If he said their names it would have been odd. But who could this new person be?

"Huh? You know this person, Roxy?" the taller blond inquired, pointing to Zexion as if he were some object. Um, rude. He obviously did not recognize Zexion from the bus, but that was only to be expected. His eyes had mostly been closed, and he looked scatterbrained. Wait a second...

"He witnessed Axel being stupid last week or so," Roxas answered, waving his hand around and rolling his eyes, as if to say, 'When is Axel  _not_ stupid?' and turned to Zexion. "But, y'know, I never got your name back then. Oh, and you never got mine, whoops. I'm Roxas, and this is Axel, as you probably know by now."

"Zexion," he replied, after walking up to the table and handing them menus. He noticed Axel pout at the blond's words.

"Well, nice to meet you. So, this is our friend, Demyx," the short blond declared. "Dem, say hi."

Demyx waved and did as he was told and Zexion just barely stopped himself from staring at the blond with his eyes bugging out. Dem? Demyx? The notebook belonged to this person? This person, with the piercings and stupid hair and blasting loud music? Him? Sure, by the time he'd actually been introduced, Zexion had deduced by his own reason and logic that there was a good chance of him being Dem. So he had to breath easy. Keep his cool and stay just as unperturbed as ever. He had the tenacity of an ox when it came to keeping his manner steely cool, but being confronted with a person he'd been nearly obsessing over, and so soon, was really something to balk at. It would have given a bad impression to scream and freak out, so he kept a frosty poker face. At least he was calm on the outside. Zexion would never admit to the twisting and turning in his tummy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. Yes! Score one for Zex, and not a bead of sweat. Hopefully they didn't notice his slight lag.

"Nice to meet'cha," Demyx replied, flashing a grin brighter than the sun.

"Take your time deciding what you want," Zexion said, passing out menus and trying not to faint. "I'll be right back with water and to take drink orders."

Part of the challenge of finally being introduced to Dem–or rather, Demyx–was that Zexion could only manage to scramble away as calmly as possible and hide in the back, still dazed by that smile. He flipped through the journal to see if there was any mention of what "Dem" looked like anywhere, his name, anything, and found nothing. How did this guy write so much about himself, but never mention so much as his name? Zexion did not hear someone calling his name until after about thirty seconds.

"Zexion, go wait your table!" came the voice of his co-worker and easily-angered friend, Vexen. Zexion had to oblige, even though he could spy the love of his life sitting out there, chatting it up with his friends. Zexion gulped a large lump down before putting away the notebook, sticking a notepad and pen in his apron pocket, grabbing three glasses of water, and descending upon the group. He caught eyes with Demyx and immediately looked at the other two, placing the water down.

"Hello, I will be your server this evening, can I start you off with some drinks?" he asked aloud getting the notepad and pen out and ready. They looked up at him and he felt his insides quake. Axel spoke first.

"Just gimmie whatever's the spiciest drink you got," he said. Zexion jotted down something he figured fit the redhead's order, or at least something he was sure Luxord would be able to decipher, and turned to Roxas.

"I'm designated driver, so just get me a coke," he replied, leaning into his hand and not looking very pleased. Zexion also wrote this down and reluctantly looked at Demyx.

"I'd just like a beer, thank you!" he said, grinning. "Stout."

Once their drink orders were down, but not until after IDs had been checked, Zexion left to give the orders to Luxord as fast as he could. Who the hell said thank you after giving their order at a restaurant? Not most people Zexion acquainted himself with, that was for sure.

Ten minutes later, after the drinks had been served, Zexion approached the table to get meal orders, handy-dandy notebook in hand.

The rest of Zexion's shift went by rather quickly. More customers shifted in and out. He noticed a few distant, way-out-there glances in his direction coming from Demyx, which almost made him loose his poker face. Demyx was staring at him? Was there something on his face? Zexion made sure to glare and turn around as fast as possible whenever he noticed those gazes. He decided it was just his imagination and that Demyx staring at him was not actually happening. It was all just a figment of his imagination, and that was that.

Figment or not, each glance turned his stomach into a tornado.

When it came time for them to pay, Zexion placed the bill on the table and walked off to wait his other tables. Vexen or whoever could take the register for all he cared, if he didn't scare the customers off with his cheekbones, that is. Zexion was not about to embarrass himself in front of Demyx any longer. He wasn't willing to admit to himself that the real reason he booked it so fast was to get out of Demyx's scalding-hot gaze.

. • • • .

Two hours later found Zexion sighing as he hung up his apron, took off his name tag, grabbed his satchel, and went on break. He didn't like eating at his workplace and he despised the school's cafeteria, which was closed anyway. There was a nice place nearby he went to for his breaks. A little diner a couple blocks away.

Just as Zexion was stepping out of the shop, he happened to turn his head and catch sight of something very interesting, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He would have missed it if he'd not turned around. There, standing on the street corner under a streetlight with his hand in his pockets, was Demyx.

Torn between going on break and approaching the blond, Zexion stood right where he was. Would Demyx think he was weird for just going up to him? He had to think of a good quip to let the blond know he was friendly. But they did just meet, and he was probably waiting for Axel and Roxas... wherever they were.

Zexion shifted his gaze between the blond and the way to the diner. Simultaneously taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples, Zexion took the first fatal step toward Demyx. With each step he felt his heart pounding increasingly faster, and he was thankful it was dark so the blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks was not visible. He almost stopped when he remembered he didn't have anything to say once he finally reached the blond. He'd have to improvise.

"What are you doing loitering?" he asked, voice cool and soft.

Demyx jumped and turned around, and the next thing he knew Zexion got a big eyeful of sea-green. He was sure Demyx recognized him when the blond laughed.

"Yeah, well, Axel and Roxas kinda deserted me," he replied with a shrug and a small smile. He reached to rub the back of his neck.

"So, you're just standing here? Why not take the bus?"

"I've been nervous about the bus ever since I lost my notebook. I don't want to lose anything else, y'know? I  _did_ go on the other day to see if it was still there, but it wasn't."

Zexion slightly flinched at the word "notebook" and cast his eyes down briefly.

"You have been standing on the sidewalk for two hours because you're afraid to go on a bus?" he asked, and couldn't help but raise a judgmental eyebrow at the blond.

"...Yes?"

"Well, Demyx, do you have any idea how you're getting home tonight?"

"I texted Rox and he's gonna come pick me up in a little bit. Can I hang out with you in the meantime? It's kinda boring just sitting here."

It took Zexion a few seconds to register exactly what Demyx said. He narrowed his eyes, forcing his expression to one resembling the frigid air—icy.

"You want to hang out with me?" he asked.

"Well, sure," Demyx only shrugged. He breathed into his hands and rubbed them together.

Zexion narrowed his eyes further. He found himself thinking, " _No, you don't, Demyx, I am a crazy stalker and you are going to be freaked out_ ," but he only sighed and turned around. He began walking away.

"Fine, but the place I'm going isn't very far and I am going back to work afterward."

"That's fine by me!" Demyx said, moving to catch up.

As if he were put on this planet to make Zexion uncomfortable, Demyx initiated small talk. Zexion was never so good at the small talk. He never considered himself so good at the normal talk, either.

"So... you a student at Radiant Garden?"

Zexion glanced at him, feeling his insides twist.

"Yeah."

"Oh, really? Me too! What year?"

"Senior," he sighed. He watched his breath billow and flow away.

"Oooh, me too! What's your major?"

Zexion paused. If he kept answering all these questions, would he seem too eager? Why was he answering anyway? Oh yeah, his obsession with this ridiculous journal-writer. He stared down at the sidewalk.

"Psychology."

Zexion stuffed his hands in his pockets. He kept his ears open. What would Demyx ask next?

"That stuff's kinda boring," Demyx said, earning a glare from the shorter of the two. "I'm a music major, but I guess I take a lot of marine biology classes... whoops!"

Zexion only offered a grunt and a shrug in reply.

"Well, I mean, I just loooove the ocean and I just love music, y'know? My two greatest passions!"

At this moment Zexion was getting the feeling the blond liked to talk. He didn't really mind much, to be honest, but how could anyone be this chipper so late at night? The blond was adding emphasis to his words by making dramatic hand gestures. There was something about his voice, too. It was almost soothing. Or Zexion might've just been whipped beyond belief.

Zexion didn't have much more time to think, because in seconds Demyx's expression became very mischievous and before Zexion could question him, he slipped Zexion's satchel over his shoulders and started running off with it.  _What?_  Without missing a beat, Zexion panicked. That satchel had Demyx's journal in it. If he fell or the flap opened, the journal would be shown for all the world to see, including Demyx. What would Demyx think if he found out his own journal was in the possession of a crazy stalker? Zexion ran after him. But also, like, he just suddenly took it? What the heck?

"G-give that back!"

Zexion was not in any way used to exercise or running. He was a bit too skinny for his own liking, and knew he probably should work out more. His interest in exercise was not very strong, however, so he just didn't. By the time he met Demyx at the corner, he was all tuckered out and panting.

"Boy, you sure don't get out much, do you?" Demyx asked, snickering. He draped the satchel strap over Zexion's shoulder. "Sorry I took your purse."

Zexion glared up at him, still panting.

"It's not a purse, asshole," he said. "And what are you, some kind of mugger?"

"It was all in good fun. I just kinda wanted to get a rise out of you, I guess, since you're so quiet."

Zexion was at least relieved Demyx hadn't seen the notebook in his bag, or actually stolen it. That would have been weird, and oddly ironic. They crossed the street to the diner.

"I'll have you know it is called a satchel, and it is  _not_  a purse."

"Whatever, is this the place?" Demyx asked, holding the door open for him. He took a bow and a flourish of the hand. "After you."

"I'm perfectly capable of opening doors myself, thank you," Zexion glared, kicking him in the shin and walking through the door.

Demyx took his hands off the door to hold his leg and laughed after him. He followed Zexion into the shop and sat down at a table while Zexion went up to the counter and placed his order. He turned around and looked at Demyx. He was playing with the salt and pepper shakers and acting like a child in general. Scoffing, Zexion turned back to the counter.

After a few minutes, Zexion sat down at the table across from Demyx with a coffee and a turkey sandwich. Not exactly the kind of thing one would eat for dinner. But it wasn't dinner. It was more like a midnight snack.

"Rather exciting dinner you got there," Demyx quipped.

"Uh-huh," Zexion said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Demyx just smiled and leaned into the table. After a beat he started talking again.

"Hey, have you ever heard of Melodious Nocturne?"

"Melodious Nocturne? Can't say I have," Zexion lied through his mouthful of sandwich. Demyx frowned, but only for a moment.

"Oh, well, I suggest listening. I'm in it!" He pointed to himself with his thumb, hammy grin spread across his face.

"Oh? If you're in it, I don't want to listen."

Zexion mentally kicked himself for playing hard-to-get. Although, maybe it was better this way.

"Well, what kind of music do you listen to?"

"I don't," he replied briefly. It was mostly true. He didn't listen to much music anymore. Sometimes while studying he'd listen to something classical, but that was it.

"What about guitar? Like, electric guitar? Acoustic guitar?"

"I don't usually listen to much music. I used to."

" _What_? But Zexy, music is  _amazing_!" Demyx said, head in his hands. Zexion's head shot up like a bullet at the new nickname and he lost temporary control of his poker face. He hoped the blush he could so obviously feel heating up his face didn't show.

"Wh-who are you calling Zexy!?" he asked, sputtering. Demyx's eyes widened.

"What's wrong with Zexy? I think it's cute."

Zexion tried not to squish his sandwich and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He immediately converted back to stone-faced Zexion, cleared his throat, and shot out a curt laugh.

"Nicknames such as 'Zexy' are rather inappropriate for newly-met acquaintances such as ourselves," he replied, putting emphasis on "Zexy" as if it tasted bad when he said it.

"Well, you don't have to get so upset with me. You could just say, 'Hey Dem, I don't really like it when you call me Zexy!' and then it'd be all good."

"My sincerest apologies, and believe me when I say this, but there is nothing 'all good' about calling you Dem, either. We met hardly two hours ago."

"You're too stiff. Loosen up a bit! You don't have to reply to everything so formally."

Zexion's eyebrow twitched.

"Allow me to  _formally_ tell you to shut your mouth."

"What? C'mon, don't be like that."

Zexion finished his sandwich and got up from the table. He picked up his coffee and hightailed it out of there as fast as he could. Not good, not good at all. Perhaps he couldn't get along with Demyx after all. They were just too different. Even the walk over proved that. Demyx groaned and jumped up. He followed Zexion out the door.

When they got back to Fenrir, Demyx perched himself at the bar. Whenever Zexion came around he made a big deal of getting his attention, despite the fact that Zexion was trying to work, emphasis on  _trying_. It might as well have just been the two of them, because Zexion could hardly keep his attention away from the blond for a split second. After only fifteen minutes back at work Zexion had forgotten all about his upset earlier.

Demyx stayed until the end of Zexion's shift–wasn't Roxas supposed to pick him up?–and he walked Zexion to the bus stop, the whole while exchanging quips. Before he left, he had Zexion's number in his phone, and vise versa. Zexion later fell asleep with a grin on his face and his stomach filled with happy butterflies. He'd never admit to tightly hugging his phone to his chest.

. • • • .

February 11th

When Zexion woke up the next morning, his glance immediately fell on his old, beat-up dinosaur of a cell phone. His face spread easily into a grin. He was glad no one could see him, because he looked absolutely ridiculous. He spent exactly half an hour getting ready for the day. His hair took the longest. Sometimes he thought his sweeping slate hair clashed with the rest of his attire, which usually comprised dress shirts, black slacks, and bowties, but he usually dismissed it. Occasionally his mind would wander to whether or not he should actually go out and buy some normal casual clothes, but always turned the other cheek at the idea. Demyx was to some extent fashionable, or rather, he understood the concept of  _casual_. Perhaps Zexion could go out with Demyx sometime and—

Zexion stopped what he was doing and only stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothpaste dribbling down his chin. It was looking back at him, completely shocked. His reflection was absolutely bewildered with the words that had gone through his mind.

 _Go out_ with Demyx?

A pale, rosy flush snuck its way up to Zexion's face.

No, no, certainly he was not thinking he could ever  _go out_  with Demyx. Demyx had something going for him. He had talent. Zexion was just a short, stoic twenty-two-year-old who just so happened to be Demyx's almost-stalker. He was certain the blond would not enjoy finding him out. Zexion would lose all chances of winning the man's heart, and what would that accomplish besides Zexion's poor, broken heart? Exactly nothing. He was not going to go out with Demyx, and that was final. All it could end with was catastrophe.

Besides, what if Demyx didn't swing that way? Zexion could hardly come to terms with what he was thinking. He was gay himself, so why was he having so much difficulty with this? He supposed he always over-thought things, always complicated them. That's what happens when you're not much of a talker and you don't have many friends, anyway. In any case, it wasn't like his ridiculous fantasies could ever become more than fantasies.

Walking toward his front door and bundling up, Zexion absently wondered if he'd see Demyx walking around. He'd give him a day or so before dismissing that whole thing the night before as just a dream, and Demyx hadn't actually walked him to the bus stop or called him Zexy. If the blond didn't call or text him, that was that. He just had to accept his fate. He slipped his boots on and walked out the door.

Class was uneventful. As hard as he tried, Zexion couldn't keep his attention off the lack of buzzing in his pocket. Oh well, it was only noon. Demyx had plenty of time to send him a message.

Work was uneventful. Still no sign of Demyx. That particular shade of blond didn't show up at Fenrir, and didn't send any messages, either. Zexion was periodically sneaking into the back room all night checking to see if he'd received any communication whatsoever from the blond, only to end up with nothing every time. He was getting his hopes up. What was he expecting, though? Demyx didn't even know he existed until the day before, and it wasn't like Zexion was particularly interesting. In fact, he thought he was flat out boring.

Zexion's journey home was longer and a little lonelier than normal. It stopped snowing, but the sidewalks were still covered with the stuff. It was melting a little, and he slushed, scowling, through the dirty, black city snow. He huffed out a puff of breath, white in contrast, and reluctantly made his way to the bus.

When Zexion went to bed that night, he spent an awful long time staring at Demyx's name in his phone's contact list. He was glad he was laying down, because his head was reeling. How had he gone from finding a notebook on a bus, to essentially becoming obsessed with the book's owner, to now having a direct means of communication with said owner? It was too good to be true. Zexion flipped his phone closed, turned onto his side, and went to sleep.


	3. February II

February 12th

The next morning Zexion sat up in bed and looked around as if he expected something to happen. The sun was peeking through his blinds, trying to pry its way in through the tightly shut plastic ribs, and he glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze down to his cell phone and frowned.

Getting ready for the day was routine. It was the same thing he did every morning. Today only had the added disappointment of Demyx not texting him at all. Nothing to let him know he wasn't just a small blip. Demyx would surely meet hundreds and thousands more people in his life, especially as he got more famous. Looking at his reflection, Zexion squished his cheeks with his hands. He needed to snap out of this.

A chime sounding and a faint buzz in the other room was enough to break him from his trance. It was a text. That was odd. He didn't get texts very often. Still frustrated (but with a little hope because, hell,  _it might be Demyx)_ , Zexion meandered into the next room and picked up the phone. The text was from Demyx. His name loomed threateningly on the screen. It could have just as easily been from someone else. Vexen, perhaps. Even Lexaeus. However improbable it seemed, the text was from Demyx and no one else. Taking a deep breath, Zexion squeezed his eyes shut and opened it. He pried one eye open to peek at the message.

" _good morning!_ _hows it goin zexy?_ "

Zexion grimaced at the blond's lack of proper grammar, and the hated nickname. He had used such nice punctuation and structure in his journal entries. Why couldn't he have kept that up in text messages? Stomach churning, Zexion sighed and pecked out his reply.

" _Good morning._ _Please use proper grammar, Demyx. I am doing well. :)_ "

He bit his lip as he wondered absently if the smiley face looked out-of-place at all. He immediately wanted to take the text back and change it. Why didn't that technology exist yet? With that, he got a reply.

" _lol wow zex i totally heard your voice when i read that haha so whatcha doin?_ "

Zexion heart leaped to his throat. Demyx imagined  _his_  voice speaking when he read the text? Did he already know the sound of his voice that well? Blushing, he replied.

" _Why, do you need me for something?_ "

Zexion stretched and put on his jacket. He was going to go out for breakfast before class. He was secretly hoping he'd run into Demyx while he was out. Then, he got a reply. Zexion fumbled for his phone, almost dropping it as he opened the text.

" _wanna hang out or something?_ "

Zexion's face blazed and he froze immediately in his place. His reply was simple.

" _Sure._ "

Demyx somehow decided it would be a good idea to visit Zexion  _at his apartment_. He wasn't sure his poor heart could take much more, but he agreed anyway, and sent the blond his address. Demyx was coming to his apartment. Looked like he wasn't going to be eating out today. He had some eggs in the fridge. Somewhere.

Before any actions toward breakfast were made, however, he made sure to hide the journal in a safe place where Demyx wouldn't find it, unless he was  _obviously_ looking for it.

Despite reality, it had to be a mistake. He was sure of it. It was simply too good to be true. They hardly knew each other, and Demyx already wanted hang out with him, and even at his house. Should he have played more hard-to-get? Did he sound too eager with the simple "sure" he'd sent him? He probably did.

Zexion let his eyes sweep over his apartment. Was it too messy? His space was usually kept spotless. It was rare for it to ever be messy, yet it somehow looked dirtier than it had in months. Was this just an illusion? He rushed to the closet to get his cleaning supplies and hurried about his apartment scrubbing various nooks and crannies. Somehow, he felt he was being a little paranoid. This made him scrub even faster.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later and Zexion's heart rocketed straight to the moon along with it. The ring was soon followed by a series of obnoxious knocks and another three or four rings. This repeated in a pattern. None of his acquaintances knocked like that, which meant there was only one person it could be. Zexion took a deep breath as he pushed away confused thoughts pertaining to how Demyx got there so fast. Did he live nearby? He shook his head to get rid of all these questions and padded softly to the door.

He was right, it was Demyx. Demyx, and only Demyx. Except for the three people accompanying him. Axel and Roxas he knew, but the third man was unknown to him. He had long black hair with silver (gray?) streaks pulled back into a ponytail, an eye patch, and a horrifying scar down his cheek. Zexion frowned inwardly. How delightful, more people. He felt his shoulders sag and hoped it wasn't visible.

"...Come in," he drawled, holding the door open and stepping aside to let the group in.

"So, Dem, when did you two get so buddy-buddy, hm?" Axel asked, poking Demyx in the ribs with his pointy elbow.

"Ow. Buddy-buddy? I don't even know what you're talking about," Demyx said, rubbing his side.

"Sweet place you got, little guy, the name's Xigbar," the eye-patched man said, ruffling Zexion's hair. Zexion growled low in his throat and glared daggers at him.

"Woah, chill, it's cool!"

"Hey, d'you have any drinks in here?" Roxas asked, rudely waltzing over to the kitchen and opening Zexion's refrigerator.

"Damn, you have a lot of books," Axel remarked, examining a bookshelf. His hand was placed on his chin as if he were marveling at artwork in a museum.

Fuming, Zexion knew he had to pull out the big guns. In ten minutes he had pacified all his guests in the living room portion of his studio apartment with sugar cookies and glasses of home-made lemonade. Zexion, who just had a mug of tea, sat down next to Demyx and heaved a sigh.

"So, did you really come here to 'hang out' or is this just an excuse to drive me up the wall?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea. He quirked a brow at the blond beside him.

"Well, we're friends, aren't we?" Demyx replied, leaning into his hand and smiling at Zexion, who almost choked on his drink.

"He doesn't seem like your type, Dem," Axel said, pulling Demyx aside and taking a gulp of lemonade. "Like, at all."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Huh? No, we just thought you brought us here to meet your new lover."

Zexion suddenly coughed, actually choking on his drink. A shit-eating grin spread over Axel's features.

"Okay, well, we walked you over here so you could confess your undying love for Zexion, so we'll leave you two alone now," Axel said, wiggling his eyebrows at Demyx.

"I... I don't think... that's—" Zexion started to say, but he was still choking.

"We even got these awesome cookies out of it," Xigbar chimed in, cramming two or three into his mouth at once. His feet—clad in filthy combat boots—were propped against Zexion's coffee table.

"Guys, we met like,  _yesterday_ ," Demyx sighed. "Nothing like that is happening between us."

Before anything more could happen, Xigbar, Roxas, and Axel finished their cookies and ran out of the small apartment, Axel and Xigbar snickering the entire time. Zexion and Demyx were left in the dust.

Absolutely wonderful. Zexion was completely alone with the object of his desires. He sent a furtive glance Demyx's way before returning to his tea and pretending nothing was out of the ordinary. God, this was awkward. Where did he hide that notebook again?

"So you are going to stay here?" Zexion asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, I wanna keep you company," Demyx replied, grinning. It faded slightly. "Uh, don't pay attention to anything those guys said. They're crazy."

"Charming," Zexion noted. "Well, I'm making myself breakfast."

Taking a deep breath and putting his mug down on a coaster, Zexion mentally noted the dirt on his coffee table left from Xigbar's boot. He stood and made his way over to the kitchen. Demyx followed.

"Let's bake a cake!"

"No."

At the moment, he just wanted some breakfast and for the butterflies in his tummy to kindly calm down. Demyx frowned and sat down on a kitchen chair.

"Why not? You have all these cookbooks with dessert recipes!" he said, gesturing to the small shelf in the corner of the kitchen. "Those cookies you made were amazing."

"Not now, I'm hungry."

Zexion took a pan out from some shelf and eggs out from the fridge and started making himself some food. He had to do anything to distract him from how happy he was hearing Demyx telling him how much he liked his cookies. He was seriously considering baking more often.

"Can I have some eggs?"

"Sure."

And right next to his own, Zexion put two eggs on the pan. After a silence, he served the eggs and they ate. Zexion stared at Demyx, who was merely poking the eggs with his fork. He couldn't help wondering if he didn't like them. This must have been boring for the blond. What if he just got up and left? Zexion supposed that would be for the best.

"Do you wanna like, hang out outside of your apartment?" Demyx asked, and Zexion stared blankly at him.

"Why?" he asked, standing and turning on the faucet to wash his plate. He rolled up his sleeves. "Is my apartment not good enough?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Demyx replied, though somewhat muffled. Seconds later and he handed his cleared plate to Zexion, who almost snorted. The blond was still chewing the eggs he'd haphazardly shoved into his mouth at once. "But there's a lot more we can do outside. We could go shopping or—or watch a movie."

"That sounds... agreeable," Zexion said, trying very hard to keep his attention off Demyx, who was only inches away. He could practically feel him smiling.

"Great, I'm ready when you are," Demyx said, pushing off the counter. He walked to the partition separating the living room and kitchen and lingered there.

Zexion couldn't decide whether it was a good or bad thing they were going to hang out, but he remembered he had an excuse not to go. His composure almost slipped as he let out a small sigh.

"I have class in half an hour," he said, turning off the faucet and drying his hands on a cloth. He gazed up at Demyx. Part of him wanted to say 'screw class,' but the rest of him would never let that happen.

"Fine, when are you free?" Demyx asked, walking back over and sitting up on the counter. Zexion shot him a look and he got off.

"Probably around lunch."

"Great! Where should I meet you?"

"Ah... the fountain in front of the Sciences building?"

"Awesome, meet you there!"

Demyx did not leave immediately. Instead, he waited several seconds, hopping from one foot to the other, as if expecting something. Zexion merely glanced up at him, confused.

"Okay, see you around," Demyx finally said. With that, he left Zexion's house, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

Zexion waited a few seconds before heaving a sigh and throwing himself down onto his couch.

"Yes!"


	4. February III

 

Zexion's classes might as well have not even existed because he wasn't paying attention to any of them. He noticed himself staring off at the clock, waiting for the hour to strike and to be let out to lunch. He looked down at his notebook and found he'd written Demyx's name several times instead of actual notes. Shit.

The bell sounded and Zexion stood straight up the very second it went off. He ignored any odd looks he got as he gathered his things and stumbled out of the room. Once in the hall, his excitement took a turn for the worse. His shoulders slumped and he stared down the hall toward the exit. Demyx was out there.

With slow, deliberate steps, Zexion made his way down the hall. He bit his lip as he stared at the shiny linoleum under his feet. Every step seemed permanent, like he couldn't take it back or chicken out of this date. Could it even be called a date? Oh god, what if it was a  _date_?

He pushed open the door and was blinded by the sun for a few brief moments. It was bright as hell outside, and the snow didn't seem to mind reflecting all the light directly into Zexion's eyes. He squinted and just across the quad he spotted Demyx sitting by the fountain, tracing a hand in the water. Zexion looked down at himself, inspecting every fiber of cloth. He wrung his fingers around the strap of his bag. With a sigh, he pushed forward toward the fountain.

"Hi, Demyx," he greeted. The blond looked up and grinned.

"Hey! D'you wanna grab something to eat first? I'm starving!" he said, clutching his tummy.

"Okay," Zexion replied, also rather hungry. Being paranoid about a maybe-date sure built up an appetite.

"Cool, so where do you wanna go?"

"Anywhere's fine, I'm not a picky eater."

"Mickey D's?"

"Except for there."

A frown from Demyx.

"Subway?"

"Any reason you are suggesting the cheapest, most disgusting restaurants possible?"

"Because I like cheap, disgusting restaurants? Why, did you want me to take you to some fancy French restaurant for lunch? Lumiere's, maybe? I thought you said you weren't a picky eater."

"I'm not, but I was thinking we would go somewhere that is not horrendous."

"Quiznos?"

A deep breath from Zexion. He stared at the pavement, weighing the suggestion in his head. If he kept refusing restaurants, would Demyx get the wrong idea about him? Quiznos wasn't so bad.

"...Sure."

"That's the same exact thing as Subway."

"Ah, but you see, Quiznos is toasted."

"Touché."

They walked together to Quiznos. It wasn't a long walk, only a couple blocks. They chit-chatted about random things. Favorite color, birthday, siblings, favorite food, ice cream flavors, silly things they did when they were little. Zexion ignored his heart pounding in his ears. He ignored his hands becoming slick on his bag strap. He ignored how Demyx spoke with such fluidity, each word gliding into the next, so unlike his own pronounced way of speaking.

Quiznos welcomed them with warm air. They continued talking through the line and all the way to their table. Zexion tried very hard to ignore how Demyx was trying to make him laugh. Try as he might, he noticed it, and he was scared. One person shouldn't be able to do this to him. It was unnatural.

"So where do you want to go first?" Demyx asked once they left the restaurant.

"I'm not sure. What places are available?"

"Well, anywhere, I guess. We could go shopping. Anything you wanna buy?"

"I've been thinking lately that it wouldn't hurt to buy some more casual clothes."

"Really? I mean, I think you look fine the way you are. Uhh, got any plans?"

"Thank you, but no. I don't think I could pull off a t-shirt and jeans look, although perhaps I could work with smart casual."

"We can window shop until you find something you like."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

Zexion was actually really glad they had decided to walk. There was a lot of traffic out for the smallish city they lived in, but it was lunch hour. Students were going shopping and eating, employees were going on breaks. If they'd taken a bus they would have been stagnant in traffic for half an hour. Somewhere in the sea of cars, someone was playing music, though it was muffled and distorted by whirring engines and honking horns. Demyx looked at him and smiled.

"Hear that? It's the sound of the city."

Well, of course it was, Zexion couldn't help but think. They were in the city after all. He found himself staring up at the blond unintentionally. Demyx was a musician. He probably heard music, some kind of symphony constantly playing. Even jackhammers pounding away in the distance, even pedestrians cursing, even bus tires squeaking to a stop. Demyx noticed his stare and smiled down at him.

As far as Zexion was concerned, none of those sounds mattered. Demyx's voice— _Demyx's laugh_ —was music to him. It was one of those tracks he could listen to on repeat until he got sick of it. But he would never get sick of it. It was at this point Zexion decided he need to stop thinking completely.

Above, smoky, gray clouds engulfed the blue curve of the sky. An ominous shadow hovered behind each puffy cloud, a tell-tale sign it was going to rain soon. In the winter. Oh boy. Zexion felt his flat expression slowly fade into a frown. He didn't really like the sound of that at all. At least it wasn't cold enough to snow, and he sighed, figuring the temperature could plummet with all his luck.

The first shop they stopped at was somewhat small, a bit earthy and hipster. Everything was overpriced, despite looking twenty-some years old. Zexion shot Demyx a wilted look and they decided this store probably wasn't the best place to shop. Onward they marched.

The pair visited several other shops. Stores were littered throughout the street. Some were too fancy, some blasted loud music, and some reeked of cologne. Zexion wearily wondered what he was doing while staring down the polished foux-marble floor of some shop while Demyx weeded through a rack. The shorter of the two was sitting on the ground propped up against the wall with a water bottle. Some Top 40's single was blaring through the store speakers, and Zexion was just about ready to end this failure of a "date." He capped his water and stood.

"Demyx, I surmise it is time we threw in the towel," he announced, brushing himself off.

"What? But you haven't bought anything yet," Demyx replied, still sifting through the rack of shirts. "One last store. I want you to at least get  _something_ out of this."

Zexion pressed his lips into a fine line and crossed his arms. With a sigh, he was defeated.

"Alright, but only one more store. I have to get ready for work."

The last shop was somewhere tucked away under some stairs in an alley. This was somewhere Zexion would never have thought to look, but Demyx was apparently very familiar with it. He must have saved this small, shady thrift shop for the very end. When they got there, Zexion recognized the cashier as one of Demyx's friends. Xigbar, was it? At least he had a day job.

"Hey, Xiggy," Demyx called out, affirming Zexion's previous thoughts.

"Sup, blondie. Oh, and hello to your emo friend, too," Xigbar greeted, smirking at Zexion. He gave a little wave.

"Not emo," Zexion felt the need to say, tension lacing his words.

"This guy's looking for some casual clothes. Got anything?" Demyx cut in, walking over to a rack, thus starting the process over again.

"Look no further, boys," Xigbar said, reclining behind the counter. "I believe my store can save the day."

Ignoring him, Zexion shuffled over to Demyx, who was holding out a shirt for inspection. He scanned his eyes over it and was surprised.

"I actually," he began, glancing over to Xigbar before returning his gaze to Demyx. "I actually kind of like it."

"Really?" the blond asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. His face broke out into a grin.

"Maybe I should try it on?"

"Hell yeah, take it."

Zexion looked around the store for a dressing room. Xigbar seemed to notice. He pointed a thumb across the store and Zexion followed its path to the dressing rooms. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw he actually looked good in it. When he walked out and made his way back over to Demyx, he cracked a small smile, letting him know it was a keeper. Maybe this store was actually kind of useful. Xigbar was smirking at them from across the store, clunky boots propped up on the counter. By the end of the day, Zexion was the proud new owner of a pair of jeans and two shirts.

"I think you would look good with like, a nose stud," Demyx chimed in as they walked to the bus stop.

"Absolutely not," Zexion replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to mutilate my face like  _someone_ I know."

"Pssh, whatever."

When Zexion got home, he dropped his bags on the floor and flopped down on his couch, emitting an audible "oof!" when he landed. His feet ached, his shoulder was tired from carrying his messenger bag all day, and he was hungry. He struggled to slip his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time. Almost time for work, of course.

After prying himself from the couch with a groan, he shuffled around his apartment, getting ready. If he didn't have a dress code at work he might have worn some of his new clothes. Instead he washed his face and changed into his work clothes.

Once he got to work, it started raining. Zexion tried not to look too pleased with himself as he walked to the back room to put his coat away. When he returned to the front, Vexen approached him.

"Um... I'm sorry to be one to point things out, but somehow you look, well, positive for once," he said. Zexion raised and eyebrow at him.

"Positive?" he questioned.

"Did something good happen, Zexion?"

"I merely made it inside before it started to rain," Zexion said, noticing a customer sitting at one of his tables. He reached for a notepad.

"Is that all?"

Zexion froze and eyed Vexen warily.

"Yes," was his hesitant reply.

"Are you certain?"

"What are you getting at, Vexen? No, don't answer that. I've got a table to wait."

As Zexion walked away, completely ignoring anything Vexen said after that, he got to thinking. He almost ran right into another table and tripped. He mentally chastised himself for that. Had Vexen seen him with Demyx? He briefly asked himself why that would matter. Maybe he just didn't want Vexen to point out how different they were, how unlikely the pairing was. That Demyx was cool and charismatic and was probably only paying attention to Zexion because he was a nice guy and felt a little bad for him. Zexion knew who he was. He knew his kind and Demyx's kind didn't usually mix.

So Zexion shook these thoughts from his head and phased into waiter mode.

"Hello, my name is Zexion, I'll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

. • • • .

February 13th

Zexion did not hear from Demyx at all. He didn't call. He didn't text. He wasn't at the fountain at lunch. He didn't randomly appear at home or at work. He was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had never even existed.

He was worried. Zexion wasn't quite sure what to make of this predicament. Perhaps Demyx finally realized how weird Zexion truly was and (wisely) decided to hightail it out of there? That didn't stop Zexion from missing the blond and sighing as he realized he was probably even creepier than before.

When he got home he sprawled on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, but Zexion was really missing those golden-wheat wisps of hair, and the way Demyx's eyes, deep as the sea, pierced him with just a gaze. Zexion wondered what the silvery-cool metal on Demyx's lips would feel like pressed against his own. His thoughts of Demyx sent shivers down his spine, which he immediately regretted. He frowned as he felt a blush spread across his cheeks, even though no one was there to see it.

There was no reason to keep the notebook anymore. So why did he keep it? With his relationship with Demyx growing, it was too much of a risk. Sure, even if Demyx came to his house and looked through his book collection, he had plenty of books, let alone notebooks, and it would take quite some time to find the thing, but there was still a chance. It was a small chance, but Demyx could find that notebook. If he did, Zexion imagined Demyx might just hate him forever. All his hard work would go right down the drain.

Occasionally Zexion entertained the idea of actually going up to Demyx and showing him the journal. He didn't really like what he saw when he imagined it. That was pretty much out of the question. He sighed and got up to get ready for bed.

. • • • .

That same day, Demyx found himself thinking harder than he had ever thought before. Nothing had ever wracked his brain this much. Life was just a confusing jumble sometimes. He never even had to think this much on a math test, and math was probably his worst subject ever.

He was thinking about many things. He thought of his band. He thought of whether Riku and Sora were going to get together. He thought of how old Ansem Wise, one of his professors, might be. He thought of what bacon, chocolate syrup, and cottage cheese might taste like combined. He concluded he would write a new song, that Riku and Sora were  _so_  going to get together, that Professor Wise was probably fifty-something, and that bacon, chocolate syrup, and cottage cheese would probably taste awful. He did not feel fulfilled, though. There were still things to think about. After all, he was on a roll.

Demyx thought about Zexion.

Zexion, that little guy with blue hair who was always angry. No, no, that didn't seem quite right. He needed to probably tweak that statement a bit.

Zexion, that guy who was short, but not too short, just right. He was a cute short. Just short enough to lean down and steal a kiss. Zexion, that guy who's hair wasn't so blue as slate-colored, which was more of a gray. He was a little younger than Demyx but he already had gray hair. Did he get really stressed at work? Demyx couldn't help but wonder why Zexion's hair was the color it was.

Zexion, that guy who was stoic on the outside, but you could see in his eyes when he really was happy. Although he would frown, Demyx was always able to look at his eyes and see how he was really feeling. This ability was one Demyx had developed after knowing Zexion for only a few hours, and he was very proud of it, but he'd never let him know. Zexion was a guy who didn't want people to know he had feelings because it just caused trouble. Sometimes Demyx saw a hint of pink color his face, and sometimes he bit his lip and he looked away. His eyes were a little big, and he sure liked to scowl and roll his eyes a lot.

Zexion, that guy who dressed like he was forty and always talked like he knew everything, which, as far as Demyx was concerned, he did. He probably got straight A's in school. He would always be able to give Demyx random, cool tidbits of information, like what the most poisonous kind of octopus was, or why the earth smelled the way it did after rain.

Demyx got out a pencil and paper, and at first reached for his notebook, but then realized it was not there. He frowned. Rubbing the knots out of his neck, he rummaged through his drawers and tables and other things until he finally found a piece of scrap paper. He really wished he hadn't lost that notebook. Someone probably found it and threw it out, anyway. He'd had it for a long time; it was pretty trashed.

Sighing, the blond looked out the window. The sunset sent rays of light through the window, weaving fingers of pinks and blues through the window panes. The light suspended a beam right on Demyx's face, as if placing a warm, chaste kiss on his cheek. It almost felt as if Zexion was placing the kiss himself.

Heaving a sigh, Demyx looked down at the paper, which looked almost menacing. He needed to think a song to write. What would it be about? A song needed a muse, otherwise it might be a big mass of confusion and randomity. He might start singing about the meaning of life and end up singing about how many calories a jar of pickles has. He looked around for inspiration. Suddenly he remembered something, and just like that he was writing.

 


	5. March

March 8th

Standing in the entrance of the Sciences building was Zexion, a little confused in the hardly-worn bluejeans Demyx bought him. He'd just gotten out of his last class before lunch, and, eyebrows knitted together in suspicion, he squinted at the scene before him. Demyx was sitting on the fountain, back facing the building. He was looking around, fidgeting with his hands, his coat, his hair. He looked like he was expecting something.

Was it going to rain soon? Zexion gripped his bag strap and crossed the quad over to the blond. He tried to make his footsteps a little heavier than normal so he heard him and wasn't startled, since he looked so antsy.

"Demyx, what are you doing here?" he asked, stopping a couple feet from the fountain. His stomach somersaulted.

Demyx jumped and turned around. Zexion wanted to sigh, since his louder steps hadn't done a thing. Demyx's face instantly broke out into a grin, which he then tried to hide with his hand, looking away.

"Oh hi, I'm just... waiting," he said, looking around.

"For what?" Zexion took this game of Twenty Questions as an invitation to sit down, so he perched himself next to Demyx. He tucked some of his bangs behind his ear, exposing a second deep blue eye. Within seconds his hair fell back in its place.

"More like  _who_."

"Fine then, for who?" Was Demyx slightly closer than he was a moment ago?

"You."

Demyx finally looked fully at Zexion, grin cranked up to eleven, and Zexion felt heart shoot off like a rocket. It was already in orbit, never again to return to its owner. He would have mourned the loss if he didn't already have more important things on his mind.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask why that is?" Zexion crossed his legs, propped his elbow up on his knee, and leaned on his hand. He looked up at Demyx, trying very hard not to smile.

"To talk to you, mainly."

"About what?"

"I wanted to ask you some questions. For instance, wanna get some lunch?"

"Same place?"

"You read my mind."

The walk to Quiznos was oddly quiet. Demyx wasn't talking much, and Zexion rarely spoke anyway. Zexion glanced at him every so often. Was he feeling sick?

Once sitting down, Zexion had to know what this was all about. Before he could ask, Demyx slammed a hand on the table and answered his question.

"Hey, wanna go see a movie after this?" Demyx asked. Lunch and a movie? Sounded like a date.

Wait...

A  _date_?

"Are you... are you asking me out?" Zexion asked, sandwich frozen half-way to his mouth. He felt like he was about to keel over. Demyx shrugged.

"Well, I guess you could think of it that way," he said, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. There was a small pause. Zexion hadn't answered yet; he was too busy staring at Demyx. "O-of course, if you think that's gross, then we don't—"

"I accept," Zexion said, and went back to eating. He was trying to ignore his stomach's protests.

For a few seconds Demyx's face was blank.

"Really?" he asked, face suddenly brightening. Zexion didn't think he'd ever seen Demyx smile wider.

Demyx fumbled through his pockets for a second before looking up at Zexion and quickly putting up his hand as if to say, "Be right back." He got up and hurried outside, taking his phone out of his pocket and pressing it to his ear after poking the screen a few times. The last thing Zexion heard before the door closed was "Dude, Axel, I—"

Zexion sat there for a second, staring at the door, watching Demyx talk. He got up and walked into the bathroom. He didn't have to go to the bathroom at all. Instead, he looked at himself in the mirror. He locked the door and stared at himself, really studied the lines and shadows of his face. He wanted to see just how much he was blushing and whether or not his face was good enough to be seen with Demyx's. Apparently, he was blushing a lot, which surprised him. He thought his poker face was a lot better than that. Had he been blushing like this the whole time? Did he always blush like this when he was near Demyx? He had to either train himself to be better at not letting his emotions be seen, or let them all out at once in a great, big ball of blushes, sweaty palms, and Demyx-I-love-you's. The former definitely sounded much more agreeable and comfortable, because, more likely in his case, they'd be Demyx-I've-been-stalking-you's.

Zexion smacked himself on both cheeks.

"Alright, Zexion," he said to himself, staring intently at his reflection. "He's legitimately interested in you. This isn't a dream, this isn't some convoluted fantasy. This is real life, now go back out there and pretend you weren't just giving yourself a pep talk like a lunatic."

When he got back to the table, Demyx was already back in his seat and was almost done with the first half of his sandwich. My, he certainly got back to his old self again quick as a wink. Zexion sat down in his seat and started eating as if nothing had happened.

"So, what movie do you want to watch?" Demyx asked as soon as he sat down, looking over at him and smiling.

"I have absolutely no idea what's showing right now."

"Well,  _Destiny Islands_  is a chick flick."

"Definitely not that."

Little did Demyx know, Zexion actually enjoyed romantic comedies. They were a bit of a guilty pleasure, as well as romance novels. Demyx would never know, and neither would anyone else.

"Fine, fine, how about  _The World That Never Was_?"

"Is that horror?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we're watching that one."

"A horror for our first date? I see someone wants to cuddle."

Zexion almost choked on his sandwich.

"Don't be ridiculous, I merely enjoy horror lore. People are always so stupid in those movies. Besides, you're the one who suggested it."

"Yeah, okay, if you wanted to hold my hand that badly you could have just asked."

Zexion was so caught off guard by this comment that he could only stare at Demyx in a somewhat subdued form of shock and pray he wasn't blushing too much. He settled with clearing his throat.

"Finish your lunch," he said, trying his hardest to slow down the thumping in his rib cage.

Demyx seemed to open up. He kept sending little glances toward Zexion between bites. Whenever Zexion happened to meet his gaze, Demyx gave a wink or a smirk, which made Zexion immediately turn his eyes back down to inspect the contents his sandwich. When their food was gone, they slowly made their way over to the movie theater. On the way, Demyx bashfully took Zexion's hand in his and intertwined their fingers. He squeezed Zexion's hand a little and smiled, little pastel cherry blushes dusting his cheeks. Zexion spent the rest of the walk looking down so Demyx couldn't see his ruby-tinted face. He kept glancing around every so often, making sure no one could see them holding hands.

Of course, Demyx had to get a slurpee from the concession stand. He mixed the flavors, which created some kind of blue raspberry-cola hybrid. When asked if he wanted some, Zexion politely declined.

Finally sitting down for their movie, Zexion found there were very few people in the theater. It wasn't very surprising, as the movie had been in theaters for almost a month already. Despite Demyx's expectations, he was actually the one who needed his hand held for a majority of the scary parts. During some werewolf transformation scene, he leaned in close.

"Do you think we could go across the hall to watch  _Hundred Acre Woods_  instead?" he whispered, breath tickling and hot against Zexion's ear, or that could have just been his imagination. "I heard that was cute."

"What, is this too scary for you?" Zexion asked with a smug snort. "I believe earlier you were making comments on how  _I_  would need to hold  _your_  hand."

Demyx only leaned back into his seat, face resembling that of a kicked puppy. He stayed quiet throughout the rest of the film, except for a muffled gasp here and a strained groan there.

"How were you not scared at all?" Demyx asked (almost yelled) once the movie let out.

"Simple," Zexion replied. "I know the events in the movie were fictional."

"Yeah, but still, the suspense should at least give you some adrenaline. You don't even look like you just sat through an hour an a half of horror cinematics."

"Yes I do," he said, rolling his eyes. "Blood made from food dye and corn syrup, and makeup. That's all it is."

"Can't you at least appreciate how real it looked? Admit it, if you saw that werewolf guy in real life, you'd crap your pants."

Zexion's nose wrinkled in disgust. How revolting. In the middle of their spat, a man with long blue hair walked by wearing a three wolf moon shirt. The pair looked at each other.

"That could be him," Zexion quipped, trying to keep a straight face, but ending up smirking.

Demyx threw his head back and erupted with laughter. He kneeled down and covered his face. Zexion couldn't help but put a shocked hand up to cover his mouth and look around at the passers-by who were watching them. Demyx was laughing this hard at his joke. They were clogging up the exit of the theater, and Zexion had decided to practically incapacitate his date with a joke. Absolutely wonderful.

"Okay, Demyx, let's go," he said, continuing to looking around.

"I had no idea you had a sense of humor," Demyx said, once he stood up and they were walking again.

"That's a bit assuming, don't you think?"

"Well, no, I mean," he began, scratching his head. "You're always so serious, and you don't really smile. It's, uh," he cleared his throat. "It's kinda cute seeing this side of you, y'know?"

Eyes trailed up to study the man next to him. Demyx thought he was... cute? He wanted to open his mouth and say something, anything, to compliment him back, but no words came out.

"Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?" Demyx asked, chuckling nervously.

All Zexion could do was cover the visible side of his face, to block the wave of heat emanating from his cheeks. When did he stop walking?

"Are you okay?" Demyx asked. His voice was laced with concern. He was concerned. What in the world was Zexion thinking?

"You..." he trailed off, the heel of his palm muffling his voice. "You think I'm cute?"

Peeking through his fingers, he saw Demyx's face held a surprised and somewhat bemused expression. He carefully took Zexion's hand in his own and retracted it from his still burning cheek.

"I think you're a lot of things," he said. "Cute is only one of them."

Demyx walked Zexion to the bus stop. Their hands were practically glued together, so they got on together. Demyx walked Zexion home. Zexion had to get ready for work that night, after all. They stood in the doorway for a minute, unsure of what to do next. Zexion cleared his throat and glanced up at Demyx before retreating again. How predictable, he couldn't think of anything eloquent to say.

"Thank you, Demyx. Today was very, well," he racked his brain for the right word. "It was fun."

Demyx's features spread easily into a warm smile.

"You're welcome, Zexy."

"It's Zexion."

"Right."

It was at this moment something incredible happened. Zexion wasn't quite sure what started it, or why it was happening then of all times when he had been daydreaming about it for weeks. Demyx's hand wandered up, fingertips brushing Zexion's visible cheek. Time almost stopped, except for the ever-looming fact that Demyx was getting closer. Their eyes locked for a split second before Demyx's closed as he closed the space between their lips. It was then that he stole something of much value to Zexion; he stole a kiss.

He had no idea how he wound up back inside his apartment. Some arbitrary amount of time had passed, but whether it was a minute or an hour, he had no idea. Demyx had gone home. Zexion leaned heavily against his door, knees weak. He lifted a hand up to his lips, wondering if what had just happened was a reality. Dizzy, he slid down, back still pressed to the door, the feeling of Demyx's hand still hot on his cheek. He could still feel those chapped lips pressing against his own. The room coalesced around him, bathed in the same gray twilight flowing in through the windows.

Zexion wondered if he would be able to work without getting distracted and lightheaded. Though he was very good at pulling off a poker face, he did not think it would be possible. He made a mental note to call in sick once his legs were not made of jelly and his breathing evened out.

Instead of working that night, Zexion decided to text Demyx. He fumbled for his phone, fingers numb. He swallowed thickly and pushed his bangs out of his eyes to get a better view of the screen.

" _Hello, Demyx. I forgot to inform you I actually have work off today._ "

He lied. He, Zexion, had lied. To his boss, to Demyx. He did have work and he was not sick, although he suddenly started feeling sick once this realization dawned on him.

" _oh yeah? then you should come over here and check out my place!_ "

Perhaps seeing Demyx again would be able to erase this feeling. Maybe it would make it even worse.

" _That would be nice. Can you give me directions?_ "

" _nooo i want to you wander around until you find it._ "

Zexion rolled his eyes.

" _Obviously._ "

When Zexion eventually stumbled his way, shaking, to Demyx's apartment, it was unlike what he thought it would be like. The nicest word Zexion could have used to describe the place would be, "homely." The usually expected apartment of a starving musician, but somehow he had been expecting something nicer. Zexion tried not to notice the (ugly) peeling wallpaper, the mysterious stains on the ceiling, or the oddly musty, smoky smell of the hallway. The floorboards creaked under his feet. How the hell did Demyx find this apartment, anyway? Most likely the same way he found Xigbar's thrift shop.

After knocking a few times and sighing many more, Zexion heard a muffled, "Come in," from the other side of the door. He opened the unlocked door slowly, as if testing how safe it was. Nothing popped out and stabbed him, so he took the next step and poked his head in before entering completely and closing the door behind him. The inside of the place didn't look much better than the outside, though it did smell slightly better. There were three rooms in the whole apartment. From his vantage point, he spotted a bedroom, a combination kitchen/dining/living room, and a bathroom. Perched in the corner of the main room was a polished and dust-free Indian sitar on a stand. Littering the rest of the edges and corners were various other instruments in cases. In the center was a cushy, worn-down, deep-blue sofa on top of which Demyx was situated, watching  _Footloose_  on the television. Zexion wasn't familiar with musicals, but it was obvious when he heard, " _Footloose! Kick off your Sunday shoes!_ "

"Your apartment sucks, Demyx."

"I dunno, I think it has a bit of a rustic charm to it," the blond said, turning to look at his guest and arching an eyebrow at him.

"It has a bit of a run-down charm to it."

Demyx snorted and turned back to the TV. Zexion felt himself gravitating toward the couch, or rather to the blond sitting on the couch. His eyes were locked on Demyx's jawline, his neck, his lips.

"Well, that shows what you know," the blond said with a laugh.

Zexion didn't know when he climbed onto the couch, but when he didn't supply a retort Demyx turned around. Blinking, Zexion realized he was hovering over Demyx, their faces only inches apart.

Demyx smelled like the beach. He smelled like sand and salt and ocean breeze. He smelled like lazy mornings, like coffee and pancakes, like stolen kisses in the sun. Zexion sighed and flopped down into Demyx's arms and inhaled the scent. He pressed his nose into the crook of Demyx's neck. Somehow the scent calmed his rapidly beating heart. He had called in sick from work for this, and it was suddenly a very rewarding lie.

"You're cold, Zexy," Demyx mumbled, wrapping his arms around him, television forgotten.

"Well, I was outside."

Zexion couldn't help but notice how fast Demyx's heart was beating. It was beating at exactly at the same rate as his own. He looked up at the blond.

"You're warm."

With a small smile Zexion leaned in and briefly pressed his lips against the blond's. Warm. He settled back down into the crook of Demyx's neck.

"Hey, Zexy?"

"...Yes?" he sighed, giving up on correcting Demyx on his name.

"Wanna be boyfriends?"

Zexion's face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, and he did nothing to stop it. He shifted his head so it was level with Demyx's, who's breath was hot on his lips. Zexion combed his fingers through the small blond hairs on the nape of his neck, and felt a hand on the small of his back. They gazed at each other through their eyelashes. He wasn't able to answer, because Demyx sealed the space between their lips with a gnash of teeth and lips and hot, sticky breath. Zexion reached up to cup Demyx's cheeks and pull him closer.

When they broke, something very unexpected happened. A snort, a twitch at the lips. Zexion was laughing. A sweet, trilling bird laugh. He raked his fingers through his bangs and looked up at Demyx, allowing himself to continue smiling. Amused, Demyx offered a smile and a quirk of the brow.

"So, is that a yes, or...?"

"Yes, you troglodyte, it's a yes. Kiss me again."

He did.


	6. March through June

Out of all the habits Demyx seemed to have, there was one that got on Zexion's nerves more than any others. At first he figured he could just let it go, the blond didnt even realize he was doing it, how could he prevent it? When Demyx chewed gum he smacked it. He was so loud. The pair were sitting on Demyx's couch, Demyx writing and Zexion reading. No, scratch that; he was  _attempting_ to read but a certain loud smacking was preventing him from actually achieving read words.

"Demyx," he said, getting fed up.

"Mmhmm?"

"Although I am well aware you do not know you're doing it, please stop smacking your gum." It was at this point Zexion chose to look up at Demyx, and Demyx at Zexion, and the two shared a few seconds of silence.

"I'm smacking my gum? Is it really that loud?" Demyx asked, scratching his head with his eraser.

"Yes."

"Sorry, Zexy. I'll try to stop."

"Thank you, Demyx."

Zexion didn't know how hard Demyx tried to stop because after about five minutes it started up again. He glanced up at Demyx over the top of his reading glasses.

"What are you chewing, Demyx?" he asked.

"Uh, gum?" the blond replied, looking up.

"No, I mean what kind of gum is making you make that awful smacking."

"Oh, um," he paused. "Big Red?"

"Is it any good?" Zexion chose this moment to look back up at Demyx. He subconsciously bit his lip.

"I dunno, you tell me," Demyx said, putting his notebook down.

A book was pushed out of the way (Zexion's place was lost) and there was a fumble of arms as Demyx reached out to pull his boyfriend closer. Their lips pressed together, and somewhere in the back of his head Zexion noticed Demyx's lips were still just as chapped as they'd been during their first kiss. His heart flipped when he felt those lips part and a tongue slide against his own lips. Fingers curling around cloth and heart beating in his ears, Zexion allowed the blond entrance. His mouth felt hot, was this supposed to happen? By the time they broke for air, Zexion discovered Demyx's gum in his own mouth. Cheeks still burning red, he glared at him.

"Demyx, do have any idea how unhygienic this is?" he asked.

"Is it any good?" the blond asked, leaning on his palm. He could only offer a grin. Zexion bent down to pick up his book. It was a few seconds before he answered.

"...Yes."

. • • • .

He never imagined it would happen, but Zexion was sitting at a table in the Divine Rose across from Roxas. Axel was working and Demyx was at the counter ordering their drinks. He shifted in his chair and glanced up at Roxas, who was doing something on his phone. Zexion felt almost lost. He was being included in this group, which meant he was expected to get along with them. Would he have to meet all of Demyx's friends? Demyx was very sociable. He had a lot of friends, far more than Zexion's one or two, who mostly just kept to themselves as well. So that was a lot of friends to meet.

What held his attention most, though, was his memory of the Divine Rose before he really met Demyx. Back when he only had the notebook saw Demyx's friends crowded around the very same table he was sitting at. It was hard to think of himself as one of them. Was he really there fairly? He wanted to just escape for a minute; this was all very different from business as usual. His hand itched for the book stowed away in his messenger bag. As the sound of approaching footsteps brought him back to reality, he wondered what was going to happen between them.

"Earl Gray for you, sir," Demyx announced as he approached their small table. He set the cup in front of Zexion. After giving Roxas his drink, he sat down with his own. Zexion predicted it was hot chocolate.

"Thank you," Zexion said. He took a sip and his nose wrinkled. "Do you think you could get me some sugar?"

"Is that code for a kiss?" Demyx asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"It means don't be cocky, just get me some sugar packets," Zexion replied with a small smile.

"Coming right up, Zexy."

Once Demyx was at the cream and sugar counter across the shop, Roxas decided to look up from his phone. He appeared to give Zexion a once-over before speaking.

"So you  _can_ smile," he said. Zexion raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's correct."

"I'm sure you've seen Demyx is a smile a minute. You're pretty serious, though."

"As the saying goes, opposites attract."

At that moment Axel chose to join the two. He took the seat next to Roxas, bumping elbows. He did not have a drink. Surrounded by coffee all day, he was probably sick of the stuff. The redhead's thin eyebrows pricked up along with the corners of his lips as he looked between the two expectantly.

"Axel, what in the world are you doing?" Zexion asked, tiredness apparent in his voice. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Zexion, Zexion, Zexion," he replied, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Have you ever heard of the great human invention known as a break? Perhaps you should try it out some time. Might wipe that scowl off your face."

"Here you go, Zexy," Demyx called, placing a few packets of sugar in front of Zexion and sitting down. He looked from Zexion to Axel with a confused smile. "What'd I miss?"

"A troublesome redhead being a pain in the neck," Zexion supplied, earning him a snort from said redhead. After accepting the sugar with a smile, he began pouring it in his tea one packet after another.

"I'm pretty impressed, Dem," Axel sighed, leaning into his palm. "You managed to tame this porcupine. All I get is bristles."

"If anyone has bristles it would be you," Zexion quipped, stirring his tea.

"Are you making fun of my hair?" the redhead asked, narrowing his eyes. Roxas sighed and took a sip of his drink.

"Ax, your hair makes fun of itself."

If Axel made any other remarks after that, Zexion didn't know because he turned his attention to a hand on his knee. Cobalt eyes traveled up to meet sea-green and there was a flash of something devilish. He turned back to look down at his drink, a pale flush adorning his cheeks. Taking a sip of his tea, Zexion noticed Demyx's hand trailing up along his leg, leaving behind a trail of tingles. A questioning gaze went back up to the blond, which was only answered with a smile.

"We're in public," Zexion whispered with a frown.

All Demyx did in response was lightly squeeze Zexion's thigh and smile while sighing through his nose.

"Keep that up and I'll drink all your hot chocolate," Zexion threatened.

"How did you know I got hot chocolate?" Demyx asked, raising a brow in suspicion. Zexion smiled inwardly because he'd accurately predicted the drink. Demyx had mentioned somewhere in his journal that his favorite thing to drink on a cold day was hot chocolate.

"It says so on the side of your cup, doesn't it?" the shorter of the two said, not actually sure if it did or not. He laced his fingers together under his chin and leaned on the table as Demyx inspected his cup. Sure enough, it did. Zexion almost wanted to high-five himself.

. • • • .

A chime was what alerted him to customers. Customers were expected to walk through the door, and they usually did. This, however, was no customer. It was someone who had come to bother Zexion at work. He sat at table nine. Sighing, Zexion made his way over to the table with a menu and a pitcher of water just in case.

"What a surprise," he remarked, tone flat. "A boyfriend has arrived at my place of work, no doubt to distract me from actual customers."

"What can I say?" Demyx smirked. "I'm pretty charming."

"Of course, and modest," Zexion nodded, pouring him a glass of water. "Listen, I'll be right back. Take your time deciding what you want, if anything. Stay out of trouble."

"Okay, mom."

The Fenrir was awfully busy that evening, and although he knew Demyx would just try to distract him with waves and kissy faces, he was glad there was a familiar face in the room. After ten minutes of serving and catching orders, he returned to Demyx's table with a notepad.

"Well?" he asked, looking down at Demyx expectantly.

"I've decided. I'd like a tall glass of brooding bookworm, and I'd like it to go."

"I can't leave work, Demyx."

"No, I mean this weekend," the blond countered. "Let's go out. There's a cool new jellyfish exhibit at the aquarium?"

"You just want an excuse to go to the aquarium, don't you?"

"Yeah, a little bit."

Zexion couldn't help but sigh. This guy was too much.

"Saturday at lunch."

Before he left, Zexion bent down and placed a chaste kiss on his boyfriend's temple.

. • • • .

"D'you think there's mermaids there?"

"No."

"I wanna go to the gift shop."

"Okay."

"Let's go right now."

"Demyx, we're already on our way to the aquarium anyway."

It was a cool day, one that called for sweaters. The pair was walking down the stairs to the subway, which would take them across town to the aquarium. Ever since Zexion agreed to go to the aquarium with him (Tuesday) Demyx had bounced around in pure, unadulterated excitement until the actual day of the trip (Saturday). He must have been very excited for those jellyfish. Then again, the blond did take classes in marine biology. He even had a small tank of fish in his apartment.

"You ready?" Demyx asked once they'd gotten their subway passes and were waiting for the shuttle.

"Not as ready as you, apparently. You bought the tickets before you even came to Fenrir the other day."

"Sorry, Zexy, I'm just really, really excited."

With a sigh, Zexion grabbed Demyx's hand. He glanced around to check if anyone was looking at them. Satisfied, he laced their fingers together. Demyx was probably thinking of all the animals he wanted to see. Zexion couldn't help but feel an overwhelming desire to clean something. He was nervous. He was going with Demyx—who, even though they'd been dating for a while now, he still couldn't believe was his  _boyfriend_ —to the aquarium, one of the most important places to him. This was a big deal, and Zexion was a nervous cleaner. Just his luck the subway was filthy and he didn't have anything to clean with. He glared at a piece of trash on the concrete a few yards off.

Zexion let loose a sigh, almost a whimper, though the blare of the train's horn swept it away. It stopped with a screech, opening its doors to take them on their journey. Demyx jumped up and down before strengthening his grip on Zexion's hand and leading him inside. Suddenly, personal space became a thing of the past. Bodies pressed up against them, the train's movement shifting them this way and that. If Demyx hadn't been there, Zexion might have hated it more than the bus.

The train stopped and continued in intervals, releasing people and gaining more at each stop. Forever went by. Zexion passed the time watching a screen on the wall that told them where on the line they were. He faintly heard Demyx humming every once-in-a-while. When the train slowed to a halt at their stop, and a waterfall erupted from inside, Zexion and Demyx being only two fish in the torrent. The station was filled with sound and chatter.

"C'mon, let's get in line!" Demyx said, running off and leaving Zexion in the dust.

"Demyx!"

Demyx scrambled past clusters of children on their way to the same place. The elevator up to the aquarium from the subway was already jammed with people, and prospects were grim to get on it anytime soon. Demyx turned sharply and headed for the escalator instead. He turned around and looked about the station. Zexion figured he was looking for him, because when their eyes met, another one of those award-winning grins spread on his face and he lifted up his arm to wave.

Once Zexion got to the top of the escalator a minute later, Demyx was nowhere to be found. Of course he would just disappear, he was Demyx. He had to make some kind of mischief. Suddenly, Zexion felt something grabbing his sides and he let out a shriek. He covered his mouth quick as lightening and turned around to find Demyx was the perpetrator. Eyes watering, Zexion punched him in the arm while Demyx barked with laughter.

"What could have possibly possessed you to do that?" he asked, frowning as deeply as he could.

"I dunno, it was funny."

Zexion punched his arm again.

The lines were long, as was expected on a weekend. Young children were scattered about, grabbing the hands of their mothers with exclamations. The aquarium might as well have been displaying a sea of children instead of fish. Demyx took the tickets out of his pocket and held them carefully in his hands as if they were precious. After waiting in line for almost an eternity, they were next.

Demyx handed the tickets over and they each got a stamp on their hands of a fish. Zexion gazed down at his hand before looking up at Demyx and allowing the corners of his mouth to curl in a smile, which Demyx reciprocated.

"You wanted to see the jellyfish, right?" Zexion asked.

The two were inside, staring up at the deep blue expanse all around them. Light bounced off the water and left wavy dimples on the floor. An echo of children's voices filled the hollow glass corridor. A sheet of glass was the only thing separating them from what might as well have been the ocean.

"Oh yeah, but let's do that last. I wanna see sharks now."

The aquarium had every kind of shark they could think up. A pair of hammerheads flitted by, while on the other side, a great white hunted for something to get in a fight with. A nurse shark swam into a crevice, while a tiger shark followed close behind. The only reason either of them knew what these sharks were was because of a very informative sign posted up next to the glass.

"Aren't they cool?" Demyx asked.

"They're definitely versatile," Zexion replied, crossing his arms. He looked up into the water at all the sharks. There were so many different kinds.

"Look at that one," Demyx pointed to the tiger shark. "I think he wants to be friends with the white one."

"Or, perhaps, he wants a snack."

"Maybe. Let's go look at octopuses."

There were a few species of octopus floating around and skittering across the floor of the tank, their arms twisting and spreading through the water. A blanket octopus billowed out, flowing like the skirt of a high-class lady. A mimic octopus shot by, pretending to be an eel.

The clicks of their heels echoed off the walls. They sounded hollow and lonely through the screams and shrieks of children. Zexion glanced over at Demyx, who was looking, wide-eyed, at some octopus Zexion couldn't identify. Leaning against the guardrail, Zexion took this time to scan the other tanks near them. He was about to go look closer at some colorful fish on the other side of the hall when Demyx suddenly threw his arm around him and pulled him over.

"Look, that one reminds me of you," he said, extending a finger. Upon closer inspection, the octopus in question appeared to be a dumbo octopus. Zexion stared at it and raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"It's short and looks real shy and a little grumpy, like you."

"If that one's me, then that's you," Zexion smirked, pointing at an octopus crawling along the bottom of the tank. Demyx took a few seconds to look down at the placard, only to discover the octopus was in fact just a common octopus.

"Hey!" he pouted.

"Let's go look at jellyfish," Zexion suggested, pushing Demyx's hand off his shoulder.

"You're so mean, Zexy," Demyx whined, following his boyfriend to the jellyfish.

He knew Demyx was interested in marine biology, but he had never expected to see the blond's eyes light up like they did when they approached the jellyfish tank. Zexion looked up through the glass, which on the other side hundreds of jellyfish floated. The lacy, transparent tendrils hung on the jellies like mobiles. They painted just about every color of the rainbow through the water, all in different sized brushstrokes. Then, out of the blue, Demyx cleared his throat and looked over to Zexion.

"Sorry, I've been studying cnidaria recently, so I guess I got kind of excited," he explained, wrinkling his nose. "You must be bored."

"No need to worry, Demyx," Zexion said, trying his best to reassure the blond. "To the contrary, not only am I enjoying myself, but seeing you get as excited as a kid in a candy store is all part of the package."

It was all Zexion could do to not pounce on the blond when he saw Demyx's lips curl into the softest smile he'd seen yet.

They continued walking through the aquarium, looking at all sorts of different colorful fish and other animals. A tour came through, distracting them for a moment. Demyx ran after the tour guide.

"Do you guys have any mermaids?" Zexion heard him ask, and he scoffed.

When Demyx ran back over to Zexion and grabbed his hand, the shorter sputtered and almost toppled to the ground. Demyx hoisted Zexion away in some unknown direction.

"What happened?"

"We're gonna go see the mermaids!"

"Demyx, mermaids do not exist."

"Whatever, they got 'em!"

Within a minute the pair found themselves in front of a manatee tank. There were two manatees floating about lazily. One of them left, and only one floated there, staring into the glass at the pair. Zexion could see Demyx's disappointed expression reflected in the glass.

"These aren't mermaids," Demyx said, frowning.

"Actually, they're the closest to mermaids we have. Sailors used to see manatees in the ocean and thought they were mermaids."

"That's dumb, they don't even look like they're half human at all."

"That's because they're not. They're manatees."

"Well," Demyx sighed. "If there's no mermaids, let's go."


	7. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: there are some lyrics in this chapter. The song Demyx sings is Bright Whites by Kishi Bashi. I recommend you give it a listen!

June 21st

Several months went by in almost a blur. Zexion found himself getting closer to Demyx, opening up more than he ever had with anyone else. There was a certain something about the blond's eyes. They held so much warmth. He just had to look at Demyx and any pent-up stress disappeared. It was how he'd gotten through graduation without tearing his hair out. Zexion was one to bottle up his feelings and frustrations. Having someone to go to who could just make all that frustration melt away was like a breath of fresh air.

More often than not, Zexion found himself waking up in Demyx's apartment, sometimes naked, sometimes not, sometimes with a sore back, sometimes not. Always with some kind of mark he had to hide, or he'd be jeered and taunted by a certain insufferable redhead.

They never went to Zexion's apartment. Demyx didn't ask questions. Zexion supposed it was better like that. Demyx's apartment was becoming somewhat of a second home for him, and it really showed. Evidence of his settling in became startlingly apparent when he had the entire place deep cleaned only a week after they started dating. He refused to sleep in a place covered with dust, after all. It took Demyx a little while to get used to his apartment being cleaner than it had been when he started living there. Settled next to Demyx's sitar was a stack of Zexion's favorite books, in the corner near the door were Zexion's oxfords, in the dresser, neatly folded, were Zexion's clothes. When Axel and Roxas came over to visit, they hardly recognized the place.

There was something special about the summer, it seemed. Demyx's constant pleading to go to the beach and Zexion's constant grumbling about how hot it was filled the air of every day. If they lived in the country, they would have slept with the windows open so they could hear the crickets chirping and the breeze whistling through the trees. Instead, all they got was sirens, cars honking, and bright city lights. It got so hot one day that the couple decided to take a cooler of ice and drinks to Axel and Roxas's place and sit around in air conditioning all day. That summer was when a shocked and appalled Demyx discovered Zexion had never made a pillow fort. Sitting under a canopy of sheets and surrounded by blankets and pillows, the two fell asleep with a discarded bowl of popcorn and a laptop still playing some cartoon movie.

Something had probably possessed Demyx, at least that was the most logical explanation Zexion was able to think up. Of all things, Demyx thought it would be a good idea to meet up at the fountain for a date. Zexion couldn't help thinking this was probably Demyx's attempt at being "romantic" or "nostalgic" but it was awfully cheesy. Zexion did not have to wait for his class to get out because he didn't have one, but he stood near the entrance of the Sciences building anyway just to humor Demyx. The thing that worried Zexion the most was how Demyx had very adamantly refused to tell him what they would be doing.

Zexion was hardly surprised when he saw Demyx sitting down on the edge of the fountain waiting for him. Straightening out any wrinkles in his clothing, Zexion made his way over to the blond. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd checked for wrinkles; he didn't have to impress Demyx anymore. They were already boyfriends, and they had been for a good four months. When Demyx heard footsteps behind him, he turned around and grinned his same old grin.

"Hey you," he greeted, standing.

"Hello. Where are we going today?"

"That's a surprise," the blond replied. "But we have to hurry!"

Tightly enveloping his hand with his own, Demyx led Zexion off and away. They tumbled through town, along the city's many streets and avenues. They cut through alleys, up stairs and down. Zexion felt his eyebrow wrinkle, fed up with this wild goose chase.

"Demyx, where are we going?" he asked.

"I told you, it's a surprise!" the blond answered back with a wink. Zexion huffed in annoyance.

A few minutes later, Demyx led Zexion down into the subway. Demyx was bouncing next to the track, obviously excited about wherever they were going. Zexion had to pull him away from the yellow line several times, chastising him like a child each time. Unlike their aquarium date, there were many available spots on the train, and the two sat down near the door. Once the doors opened, Demyx took Zexion's hand and they sped off once more.

Soon, they entered a large brick building that Zexion could only deduce was a club of some sort. Pulling Zexion inside and pushing past a line of people, Demyx took out a card from his pocket. A man at the front of the line with a hole puncher caught sight of Demyx and smiled. He had long, black dreadlocks and a set of the largest sideburns Zexion had ever laid eyes on.

"Hey there, blondie," he greeted.

"Give him a good spot," Demyx said, patting the man on the shoulder, and pushed Zexion at him before hurrying off somewhere. Zexion gave the man a confused look and received a shrug in response.

Another man came in and led Zexion inside, taking him to the front of an empty stage. What in the world was Demyx thinking? After a long wait, Zexion was already nearly deaf from some CD blasting through the speakers around him. Not only was this place loud, but it was filthy and smelled strongly of vomit, alcohol, and testosterone. Some sweaty guy bumped into Zexion and almost spilled his drink all over him. Zexion didn't know what Demyx was up to, but it had better be worth whatever he was going through.

Suddenly a barrage of lights came on, the crowd's screaming got louder, and fog machines turned on, spreading billows of fog all across the stage. The sounds of instruments warming up came through the speakers. A man who was obviously drunk came on stage and started yelling something into the mic at the audience, though Zexion didn't pay attention. He was saying how the first act had CDs for sale out front or something along those lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman with striking electric blonde hair get up on someone's shoulders and give a loud woop, flinging what appeared to be a bra into the crowd. Zexion frowned in distaste.

Zexion's attention was finally caught by the man on stage when he yelled out  _Melodious Nocturne_ , but he wasn't entirely sure if he'd heard right. Four figures ran on stage as he was leaving. Beyond the fog and lights, they looked very familiar, but Zexion couldn't see them well enough to tell who they were. The one who supposedly sang lead vocals and played guitar grabbed the mic and started talking.

"Hello, Hollow Bastion!" cheered a very familiar voice. Too familiar. Oh no.

Zexion buried his face in his hands once he realized it was Demyx up on that stage.

"Thanks for coming to the show, everyone!" the blond continued.

No, he couldn't be mistaken. Not even that stupid hair could be misplaced. It was definitely Demyx. The very ridiculous blond up on stage scanned the front row for a spot of slate hair he was sure would be mostly obscured by other bodies. Once catching his eye, Demyx threw a wink at Zexion, which only earned him crossed arms and an eyebrow raise. Upon closer inspection, Zexion spied Roxas sitting behind the drums, Axel donning a guitar, and Xigbar strapping on a bass.

"There's a very special person in the audience this evening," Demyx started, voice smooth as he warmed up his instrument. Zexion's jaw dropped. "He's pretty grouchy all the time, so I thought I'd show him how to loosen up. We'll be playing a set of seven tonight, so let's go."

With that all said, Demyx and his band took their positions and the music freely flowed. Although he'd heard these songs countless times, be it on their EP or alone in Demyx's apartment, nothing could possibly beat what was happening on stage. The live performance was unlike any recorded single Zexion could have heard from them, unlike any acoustic guitar session at three in the morning tangled up in sheets. He'd even visited in on one of their practises, and it still didn't hold a match to what was actually happening in front of him. They were  _amazing_  live.

In the midst of the sweat and the grime and the people pushing against him, Zexion was captivated. He didn't even care that he was being jostled and manhandled to hell, he just locked his eyes on Demyx and took in that voice and those nimble fingers. Letting himself go, Zexion allowed a smile to spread across his lips as he mouthed along to the words. Some songs were fast, some slow, some happy, angry, or sad, but Zexion liked them all just the same.

Once the sixth song finished playing, an acoustic guitar was taken out and handed to Demyx. He tweaked with the strings a bit before taking the mic again.

"Before we close our set, we've got one song I'd like to dedicate to that special someone in the audience," the blond announced. "I started writing this a little while ago, and it's a little different from our normal stuff..."

The rest of Demyx's spiel was promotion for their EP, which had been recorded in Axel's closet because it apparently had good acoustics. Axel shuffled around uncomfortably at the mention of this. Demyx sent one more glance toward Zexion before leaning into his guitar, plucking a chord, and beginning the song.

_You and me at the edge of the world_

_With a pretty secret smile for me to see_

_New bright whites and a cage full of ice_

_And a naked little canopy to feed my disease_

_And if you're to smile at me_

_I could cry by land or sea_

_After you said that you like Big Red_

_I opened up my mind and skipped a beat_

_Cuff links and hands in wrong places and faces_

_And creepy little movies made me weep_

_And if you're to say to me_

_What is mine is yours to keep_

As Demyx sang, memories of their past few months together flooded Zexion's mind. Up on the stage Demyx grinned and bobbed his head to the beat. The song was cheerful and childish and so inexplicably Demyx.

_Well you know, I'll have to see_

_If all the stars aligned we could've solved the mystery_

_It's a partial fantasy_

_We're living in a land that went astray from history_

_You and me at the edge of the bed_

_Looking at the faded pictures for you to see and me to see_

_Murder and colonies, land without rivers_

_Raging in the middle of some sad destiny_

_Take one look to find my eyes_

_Safety's in your inner thigh_

It was impossible, really, to pinpoint exactly when it happened. Zexion felt the moisture well up behind his eyelids, he felt prickles on the back of his throat. When he felt a trickle of wetness trail down his cheek, he knew he was crying.

_Well you know, I'll have to see_

_If all the stars aligned we could have solved the mystery_

_It's a partial fantasy_

_We're living in a land that went astray from history_

With the final chords played,  _Melodious Nocturne_ 's act was over. The band most of the fans had come for was something called  _One Sky, One Destiny_ and Zexion really didn't have any interest in them. From what he had heard, Roxas's older brother was in it, but Zexion wasn't about to stick around long enough to see who he was. Just before Demyx walked backstage he took the mic one more time. Zexion would have missed it if his ears hadn't perked up when he saw the blond's lips move and spill out six beautiful, unmistakable syllables.

_Zexion, I love you._

. • • • .

June 22nd

It was a lazy kind of morning. The kind where you don't want to get up until noon, where you want to make pancakes and look out the window and just breathe and blink and live. For Zexion, this was no different. He didn't want to wake up. The bed was an oasis of warmth, though a different kind from the sticky, sunny oven outside. He could be lazy under these sheets. He could play last night over and over again in his head and lay next to Demyx. He could play with Demyx's hair and stare into his green, green eyes and smile into his chapped lips.

Zexion rolled over and sighed as he reminisced. After the concert they'd ditched the rest of the band and meandered about until they somehow ended up at Zexion's apartment. They tumbled through the apartment, shedding shoes and clothes, ruffling hair, mixing breath, intertwining fingers and arms and legs. Zexion had made a mental note to clean up, but it was all dust in the wind once his back hit the mattress.

It wasn't their first time, not by a long shot, but it was different. It felt different and wonderful and passionate and he distinctly remembered feeling like his heart would burst.

_Zexion, I love you._

That was why. That one line repeated endlessly, endlessly in his head. He could feel the warmth flow all the way down through his body to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Taking a deep breath, Zexion spread out his fingers and felt around. Though seemingly glued shut, he pried open his eyes.

Something was missing.

It was the heat of another body.

Zexion sat up and rubbed his bleary, sleep-filled eyes. He tried to focus his blurry morning-vision on the room but it was all a jumble of color. A glance at the digital clock on his nightstand told him it was already well past noon. Demyx was sitting at the cluttered ( _cluttered?_ ) desk in the corner of the room with a book in his hands. This fact seemed so unbelievable at such a time, Zexion had to question it. It should have been illegal for Demyx to not be sprawled next to him.

"Demyx?" he asked, voice cracking and weak from just waking up, but still soft. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm and yawned. "What are you doing?"

Demyx jumped and turned around in the swivel chair so he was facing him. Zexion shifted the covers and let his legs hang off the edge of the bed. He would have smiled at the blond, but the face he was making was troubling to say the least. As much as he searched those ocean eyes, he could see nothing warm or positive or friendly. Confusion, and something else Zexion couldn't quite pick out.

"...Demyx?"

Finally, Demyx stood up.

"Why do you have this?" he asked, and Zexion could tell his voice was holding something back. Something very loud and very scary.

"What...?" Zexion asked, brow wrinkling. Then his eyes drifted to the book in Demyx's hand and his heart stopped. His whole world came to a screeching halt and shattered, broken shards plummeting toward the ground and piercing him through. It was Demyx's notebook.


	8. June through January

He was kind of expecting it. After all, he never did get rid of that notebook. It was only a matter of time. He was actually surprised it took so long. Then again, they almost never stayed in his apartment much due to his paranoia. He started getting antsy sometimes when Demyx stayed quiet about it, which only made him scrub the kitchen counter back at Demyx's until it gleamed and burned his nostrils with its strong lemon scent.

Jaw clenched, Zexion's stomach churned and flipped. It was almost painful. He swallowed thickly as he stared at that notebook. His blue eyes glanced up to Demyx's green, but he immediately regretted it and looked away.

"Zexion, look at me," Demyx ordered, and Zexion's heart sunk. To not use his nickname was serious. He complied. "So, are you going to tell me why this was in your bookshelf?"

Frowning deeply, his fingers gripped the edge of the mattress until his knuckles were white. Any and all pain Zexion had predicted leading up to this moment did not live up to harsh reality. He didn't want to say anything; he couldn't, really. His body was shutting down and all he could do was look helplessly at Demyx, who only seemed to be growing more and more impatient. Zexion forced himself to open his mouth. At first no sound came out, then he pushed and pushed at his vocal cords until finally a dull rasp shook itself from his lips.

"I..." he began, and paused to wet his lips. "I found it on the bus a few months ago."

"And?"

"I read it. I read the whole thing. Every sentence, every line of lyric, every side note. I memorized it all," Zexion replied, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice steady.

Demyx's jaw unhinged at this, his mouth hanging open. He looked some mix of stupefied and furious. His eyebrows pinched together. He quickly shut his mouth before opening it again to speak.

"How long were you going to keep this a secret from me?" the blond asked, voice breaking. "You had this, knew all about me, all my personal thoughts, _before we met,_ and you didn't tell me?"

"Demyx, I—" Zexion began, standing up, but he was cut off.

"I was thinking this was a relationship built on trust, but I guess I was wrong because it was nothing but a lie from day one."

There was no emotion in that statement, which only increased the sting as it shot through Zexion's chest like a bullet. He tried to scoff, but it came out as more of a strangled choke as he brought his hand up to cover his mouth and his eyes heated with building tears. Their eye contact broke again, and this time Demyx did nothing about it. Zexion's legs were like jelly and he didn't even try to stop them from giving out.

"I was getting kind of suspicious since we never came to your place, but I don't know what I was expecting. It sure as hell wasn't this," Demyx said, voice flat.

"Please," Zexion managed, though the word came out watery and strained behind his hand. He didn't know what he would have said after  _please_ if his voice hadn't given out. Please forgive me? Please don't go? He looked back up at the blond, who's face but just as devoid of emotion as his voice.

"Nice try," Demyx said, and silently moved around the room, putting on his clothes. "I'm done with this."

He knew it was coming; he'd been waiting so patiently for the notebook to be discovered. If this was the case, why was he getting so upset about it? He'd been expecting it since he met the blond. Instead of brushing it off easily, he was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, hardly registering the pad of feet on the carpet and the shuffling by the front door as Demyx pulled on his shoes. He hardly registered his itchy carpet pressing grooves into his legs or even the dull throbbing of his freshly-shattered heart. All Zexion could do was slowly crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over his head and try to forget the world even existed. It all happened too fast. It was almost surreal to be laying in bed feeling miserable when only a few minutes ago he was happier than he had ever been before.

Whether several minutes or several hours had elapsed before Zexion heard his phone go off, he didn't know, but he ignored it all the same. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. It appeared someone wanted to get a hold of him, however, because a minute later it was ringing again. Removing his face from his wet pillow, Zexion peeked his head out from under the covers and found his phone on the floor. With a glance, he saw the call was from Axel, and hesitantly accepted it before pressing the phone to his ear.

"Zexion?"

"What?" was his reply. His voice was raspy and coated in dried tears.

"Would you mind telling me why Demyx is currently drunk as a skunk and sobbing your name into my shoulder?"

With hardly any delay at all, Zexion snapped his phone shut, abruptly ending the call, threw it back on the ground, and curled himself up in a ball. He ignored any other calls he got. If he wasn't feeling so awful he would have been glad he had a day off from work that day, because he wouldn't have gone in anyway.

. • • • .

Within a week Zexion was able to resume some normal activity in his apartment. He had left the place go uncleaned for a week, and figured cleaning would at least help clear his mind a bit. He wondered how Demyx's apartment was faring as he absentmindedly dusted a shelf. It was probably a pigsty already. He frowned.

When his doorbell suddenly rang, he jumped. Who would ever visit him? Zexion looked down to his person and realized he was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. With a shrug he decided whoever it was at the door could just deal with it. In the back of his mind he acknowledged he would never have done this a couple weeks ago. Nevertheless, he opened the door to find no one there. When he looked down he was met with a large box filled with the belongings he had left at Demyx's place. He glanced down the hall but there was no sign of the blond anywhere.

After a while Zexion was able to go back to work. He had called in sick every day, something he normally wouldn't have done even if he really were sick. His coworkers asked questions. He ignored them. With Demyx out of his life, he didn't have to worry about being distracted at work. After work he didn't have to wait outside to be picked up and walked home by Demyx. At home he didn't curl up next to a warm body and blissfully drift to sleep to the lullaby of another human's heart beat. When he woke up he didn't get sleepy morning kisses or Demyx's attempt at buttermilk pancakes.

He reverted back to wearing only his old clothes. The clothes he had bought with Demyx were thrown out. He seriously debated whether or not to get a haircut, but in the end decided not to. Passing a barbershop one day, he wondered if Demyx got a haircut. Wasn't that something people did when they broke up? Zexion figured he had probably been reading too many romance novels. He tried to imagine Demyx with a different hairstyle and decided nothing looked right on the blond except that ridiculous mohawk-mullet hybrid.

. • • • .

Zexion had no idea why he was sitting in a café somewhere in town, though Vexen had told him it was to "talk." He really didn't like the idea, but when the blond was willing to treat him to drinks, he didn't complain very much. Socializing would be good for him anyway. He had a steaming cup of chai latte in front of him, and he was taking in the aroma. His blond friend was sitting across from him with a steaming cup of something else. Knowing Vexen, it was probably plain black coffee, and the thought almost made Zexion cringe.

"So, Zexion," Vexen began. He took a slow sip of his drink.

"So, Vexen."

"Would you care to explain why you have been exceptionally despondent as of late?"

"Personal affairs," Zexion replied, clearing his throat.

"That buffoon you call a boyfriend hasn't been by the shop lately," the blond clicked his tongue, raising a brow.

"You are quite right about that," Zexion said, taking a sip of chai and feeling the hot liquid burn his throat.

"Zexion, please stop acting like a child. You've been throwing a tantrum for the past month or so."

"I believe my personal affairs are none of your concern," Zexion replied, eyes downcast. He stared down the curling wisps of steam rising from his cup as if studying them would give him all the answers he needed.

"I  _am_  concerned, Zexion," Vexen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm your friend, and the way you've been beating yourself up recently is very concerning."

"I'm an adult and I would prefer to be treated as one," Zexion shot back. "It's obvious you've already figured out what happened. Please just leave it at that and let me handle it on my own."

"Adult or not, wasting away in your apartment whenever you're not at work is not what one would call 'handling it'," Vexen replied.

Zexion felt his jaw clench at this. His eyes flicked up to meet Vexen's icy blue gaze, which was boring holes in his skull. He didn't say anything.

"Honestly, I'm just worried," Vexen continued. "Perhaps to cheer you up, Lexaeus and I could take you to the IMAX in the science museum. I hear they've got a new documentary on–"

"I appreciate the sentiment, and I apologize for cutting you off, but I'd really just like to be left alone to figure things out for myself for now," Zexion finally said, taking a deep breath. He got up and straightened out any wrinkles in his clothes.

"I know," Vexen said, keeping his gaze down. He ran his finger over the rim of his mug. "I'm merely making sure you know I'm always willing to listen if you're willing to talk."

"Thank you," Zexion sighed, and turned to leave. "See you at work, Vexen."

. • • • .

Zexion cringed as a very familiar head of fiery red hair sat down at one of his tables. There was no head of sunshine blond accompanying it, or even one of a more sandy shade. The last time he had talked to Axel was when he hung up on him the day of the breakup. From all the way across the shop, Zexion could feel those burning green eyes watching him. Axel had obviously come just to talk to him.

With a deep breath and a gulp, Zexion made his way over to the table. He made a point to not look at Axel.

"Hello, my name is Zexion and—"

"Cut the crap, you know why I'm here," Axel said, harshly cutting Zexion off and causing him to flinch.

"Take your time deciding what you want, sir," Zexion said through his teeth. He placed a menu in front of Axel, who only scowled.

"Zex, we need to talk about you and Demyx."

"What is there to talk about?" Zexion asked, still refusing to look at Axel. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't have anything to do with him anymore."

"I don't know what the hell happened between you two, but I'm really worried," Axel sighed. "You guys should get together and work this out."

"I don't want to talk," Zexion replied. "I just want to be left alone."

"When you two were together, y'know, Demyx was probably the happiest I'd seen him for a while," Axel said. "What about you?"

Zexion chose this moment to glance down at the redhead. His chin was propped up on his hand and he was looking up at Zexion with his piercing green eyes. There was no malice in those eyes like he thought there would be. Axel had reason enough to hate Zexion, yet he didn't. Demyx obviously hadn't told Axel what happened. He probably made up some story about a fight or just refused to talk altogether.

"Perhaps I was," Zexion answered. He tapped the menu in front of Axel to bring the focus back on his work and to signify that the conversation was over.

Axel ordered, ate, paid, and left without a goodbye. Zexion hoped the redhead didn't notice how the bill was slightly less than it should have been.

. • • • .

That September, Zexion became a graduate student. He took classes at Radiant Garden University, and even taught some lower-level classes. He was studying psychology, and yet he couldn't even wrap himself around his own mind. He was mostly able to push the past year out of his head, and he never saw Demyx around campus even once. Demyx had probably moved on to bigger, greater things, and probably was already recording for some big label. After all, he was so much better off without obsessive, lying, secretive Zexion in his life. Wasn't he?

One day, Zexion decided he needed to go shopping. He had been wallowing in his apartment for long enough. He was mostly living off of delivery and instant noodles, something he wouldn't have even thought about doing a few months back. He had always had home-cooked meals, but the past while he hadn't been feeling up to it. He figured a home-cooked meal might do him some good, though, so he made his way down to the supermarket, shopping list in hand.

A stationary store was having a sale. Zexion blankly stared at the poster in the window before his eyes trailed over to the display. A pile of spiral-bound notebooks was sitting cheerfully in the window, all different colors and designs displaying proudly on their covers. College-rule, three subject, five subject. For a good ten minutes, Zexion stood in front of the display. Finally, he left the store with a brand new notebook before returning on his path to the supermarket.

That same night, while cleaning up the kitchen, Zexion stumbled across the plastic bag with the notebook, which he'd left in the corner. He somehow had mixed it up with his grocery bags when he was putting food away earlier and had forgotten all about it. Taking it tentatively in his hands, Zexion glanced over to a cup of pens on the counter. He took one and shuffled over to his bedroom area where his desk was, which had been organized with some pain since the breakup. Zexion sat down and opened the notebook and nervously tapped the pen against his desk a few times in thought. In the light of his uncharacteristically dusty desk lamp, he promptly began to spill his bottled-up thoughts over its pages.


	9. January II

January 20th

With a shiver, Zexion stood at the door of his apartment complex and stared out at the snowy wonderland before him, which was an unwelcome reminder that it was winter. He narrowed his eyes at the soft flakes slowly gliding down, knowing that at any moment the wind could pick up and turn them into freezing, miniature claws. Repositioning his scarf so it covered his ears, Zexion sighed out a white puff of breath and decided he would take the bus to class for the first time in months.

The crunch of snow underfoot was enough to give him a sinking feeling of déjà vu. He'd been in the opposite direction from the bus stop the year before on a day just as cold. The only thing that had separated it from any other winter day was the addition of a notebook. He squinted through the gleam of the snow, putting up a gloved hand so the wind couldn't dry out his eyes, and some frost collected on his eyelashes.

Unfortunately, Zexion had woken up late that morning. The overcast sky, most likely in cahoots with his impossibly warm and comfortable bed, tricked his sleeping brain into thinking it was still night time. He fumbled to get ready, and when he reached into his desk drawer to get the lesson plan for his first class, he accidentally grabbed an unlabeled notebook that hadn't been touched since September. He sat there on the bus staring at the spiral-bound notebook as if all it brought was misery. Inside was a single entry. Sighing, he placed the notebook next to him and stared out the window to deter the memories that wafted over his vision. His mind was as cloudy as the overcast sky hovering overhead. At least he had practically memorized that lesson plan, anyway.

Zexion's vision suddenly jolted up. He'd been dozing. He glanced out the window and almost audibly groaned when he saw he missed his stop. Quickly tugging at the string hanging from the ceiling of the bus and hurrying off, Zexion completely forgot the forlorn little notebook and left it there cold and alone.

. • • • .

A tall, blond man stepped onto the bus, remnants of piercings peppering his ears and a pair of oversized headphones leaking music into the stuffy bus air. He shivered bodily as he was pushed into the bus by the crowd of people behind him. Even inside the bus he could see his breath. Demyx was on his way to a band meet to practice for an upcoming gig in some sleazy bar somewhere. He rubbed his hands together, hoping to thaw out his icy fingers as he plopped down into a seat.

Demyx took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before squeezing as much air out of his lungs as possible on the exhale as if it would clear out the plethora of various thoughts clogging up his mind. Turning his head, he gazed out the window and watched the buildings fly past. He couldn't take a bus without thinking of Zexion. If it wasn't so cold, he would have just walked, but he was having trouble walking without slipping on the sidewalk. He never had to worry about snowy weather back in sunny, warm Atlantica.

Demyx made a small involuntary noise as he noticed the bus seat wasn't as soft as he remembered. Upon closer inspection, he discovered he was sitting on a notebook. He turned it over in his hands. It was immaculately kept, so he doubted it had been used much, if at all. He would have accused the owner of being scatterbrained, but he really had no room to talk. There was nothing on the cover to distinguish what it was for, and he was inquisitive, so he flipped it open. At the sight of the first two words on the page, Demyx felt his heart leap right out of his mouth, which had gone slightly ajar.

" _Dear Demyx_ ,"

Smudges, eraser marks, white-out. The first few lines had been messily covered up, masking countless errors. Whether the errors were in messy penmanship or mistakenly used phrases, Demyx didn't know. Both were equally out of character, and he would have recognized this handwriting anywhere. The dips and curves, the particular way the ink seemed to flow effortlessly in a way Demyx could never copy in a million years with his awful chicken scratch. The owner of this notebook was never one to run out of complicated vocabulary, and he was just like his elegant handwriting; precise, defined, deliberate. This handwriting, however, had lost some of its character. The usually delicately curving scoops were jagged and clumsy. Some of the ink had been smudged.

" _If, by some incredible and probably dastardly feat of the universe, you have found yourself in possession of this notebook, please, keep reading. I know you have no reason to read this. I know I've been, for a lack of better, more refined words, a total, raging bag of dicks, but hear me out. If not, you can discard this notebook however you choose. I deserve it. Now, I'm not the most adept at expressing myself, as you more than likely know. I'm especially bad when it comes to speech, but I think I'm slightly more suited to the written word and that is why I've decided to express myself in this way. Am I rambling? In any case, the contents of this letter should hopefully express my thoughts and feelings satisfactorily._

 _I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Demyx. I'm a joke, a fraud, a phony. I don't know how it all happened; I hadn't meant for it to. I found a notebook on the bus, I read it, I became hopelessly obsessed. It wasn't something I'd meant to go so far. Yes, I was probably more obsessed with that notebook than I should have been, but then I actually met_ you _. I thought, 'imagine that, it's almost as if God himself is dangling the very person I've been infatuated with the past while right in front of me.' I thought, 'this seems too good to be true.' The more we talked, and hung out, and went shopping, and whatever else we did, the more I realized. I realized, and realized, and realized until there was nothing left. Do you know what I realized? I realized how unmistakably and unconditionally and completely in love I am._ "

The handwriting was almost unintelligible here. The paper had been saturated with splotches of water. Tears?

" _That notebook didn't do you any justice. I found myself ten times more crazy about you after meeting the real you, the flesh and blood and heart-stopping green eyes. Nothing in that book could have prepared me for pure, unadulterated you, or how you made my stomach flip and my heart pound and my knees go weak when you smiled. And do you know what else? I don't regret a single thing. Not a one. I'd do it a thousand times if I could. If I could meet you, if I could relive all the bickering and smiles and whispers and clasped hands and stolen kisses._

_For someone as boring as I was, it was something new. You were so different, something I'd never thought could exist. You were something of a fresh breath of air, and you flowed into my depressingly dim, musty life. I was bland, lifeless, just following the same routine day in, day out. I hardly talked to my one or two friends, I didn't go to parties, and, quite honestly, I hated people. I was afraid of showing my emotions. I just studied, worked, and slept. After I met you, I found myself changing. I was smiling more, and these were real, genuine smiles. Eye crinkle and everything. I can't remember the last time I smiled like that. I don't think I had ever been so happy._

_So, I'm sorry. I kept everything a secret. I deceived you. I should have come out and told you immediately, but I was so afraid. I was afraid you'd hate me, afraid you'd throw me in jail, as ridiculous as that may sound. I was afraid of how you would react because after so long, I finally found the one person I could actually be myself around. I don't know if after reading all this you're going to forgive me or hate me more, and I honestly don't mind if it's the latter. I'm sorry. There should probably be a word that describes regret and apology better than 'sorry.' If there is, I'm really slacking on my know-it-all status._

_I love you so much, Demyx. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Always,_

_Zexy._ "

Before he even looked up from the page, Demyx knew he was shaking. Tears flooded his eyes, and the colors and sounds of the bus mushed together into something unrecognizable. He bit his lip, trying to stop his tears from overflowing at trickling down his face. How would it look if he started crying on the bus all of a sudden? Someone placed their hand on his shoulder and asked if he was alright, but he just shrugged them off.

Closing the notebook and sticking it inside his jacket, Demyx got off the bus at the next stop and walked the rest of the way to band practice. The cold air felt good against the heat behind his cheeks, even if he almost slipped a few times.

. • • • .

It wasn't until Zexion had already started his class that he realized he had left his notebook on the bus. He scowled as he reached into his messenger bag and found nothing. It was such a waste of money. He still could have used it, since it had over a hundred clean pages. Zexion wondered if someone had found it. Who found it? Did they look in it? Did they throw it away? These questions filled his mind and refused to go away. He couldn't help thinking the situation was ironic.

As he was walking down the hall to his apartment after work, Zexion noticed something amiss. Just about everything about his door was the same, normal as could be, except just one minor detail. His forgotten notebook was propped against the door. It almost seemed like it was welcoming him home, as absurd as he thought that was. Zexion stopped in front of his door and just stood there staring at it. He bent down to pick it up and looked over his shoulder down the hall. He swallowed the forming lump in his throat.

"Hello?" he asked, voice hesitant and quiet. He wasn't sure if anyone was listening.

Someone had obviously found it; someone who knew exactly who he was and where he lived. How else would it have gotten there? It couldn't have walked there all by itself. Notebooks don't have legs, or muscles, or anything else things need to be able to walk. He looked back at the notebook timidly before unlocking his door and going inside. He dropped his things to the ground and didn't even bother taking off his shoes as he walked over to his couch and dropped himself into it.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he flipped the notebook open. The first page was still completely intact. It hadn't been changed. Through the thin paper, Zexion noticed writing on the next page. He turned the page and his heart stopped when he realized just what had been written on the page.

" _Usual place, usual time. See you there._ "

It took Zexion no time at all to realize the note was in Demyx's messy scrawl.

. • • • .

January 21st

Zexion didn't know how he was going to confront Demyx. The very thought had whirled through his mind all night, kept him up. He hardly got a wink of sleep. He was so frazzled, he left his bowl from breakfast in the sink instead of immediately cleaning it. The hours up until lunch were torture. Would Demyx look different? What if he got angry the moment he saw him? Zexion was sure he would cry if Demyx gave him a disgusted look, though it was probably warranted.

When Zexion's last class before lunch got out, he hesitated before getting up. His desk was familiar and unjudging and oh, so friendly. It called out, "don't go!" Swallowing thickly, Zexion stood and walked down the stairs through the large classroom and out the door. He didn't look back; couldn't bear to see the space he'd just abandoned. He walked as slowly as possible through the corridors out to the entrance of the building, not daring to tear his eyes away from the pale linoleum.

The walk to the fountain was excruciating. Zexion kept glancing backward, as if his apartment was right there, welcoming him and telling him not to go. It was in cahoots with his desk back in the classroom, he was sure of it. Every step and every second closer made his feet feel like they were chained to a bouquet of two-ton weights. He often wiped his clammy hands on his pants and wrung them around his bag strap. Occasionally, Zexion debated whether to just turn a wrong corner and not meet Demyx at all. He never found the courage to actually do it, though. As painful as it was, he had to see Demyx.

With a deep breath, Zexion squeezed his eyes shut and pushed open the door. After standing there for five seconds, he decided it was high time he looked up. Demyx was sitting on the edge of the fountain, back turned to him. He looked different, but not too much. His hair was still the same ridiculous shape, and Zexion wouldn't have been able to miss it for the world. Seeing him made his stomach churn and new anxiety wash over his face. He was suddenly twice as anxious, if that was even possible.

He took a few deep breaths. Breath was good; it naturally relieved stress, right? Zexion somehow thought all the breaths in the world could not have prepared him for walking through the snow over to the oblivious blond sitting on the fountain. Taking yet another deep breath, he pushed himself to take his first few steps and cringed with every crunch of snow. Demyx turned around when the sound got closer and Zexion froze as they locked eyes. Time stopped. How long had he been waiting? Zexion wanted to ask, but couldn't bring himself to it because he was too busy shaking in his boots.

Eventually, after a bit of internal struggling and second-guessing, Zexion managed to force his voice out of his throat. It came out as a croak.

"H-hello, Demyx," he wavered. His eyes immediately broke contact with Demyx's and his shoes suddenly became the most interesting things in his field of vision.

"Hey..." the blond trailed after a second of hesitation. "Do you... d'you wanna get going, then?"

Zexion merely uttered a breathy, "Sure," and they shuffled off together. There had probably never been a more awkward walk in all of history, at least as far as Zexion could tell. Neither spoke a word the whole time, and other than a feeble glance here and there, they didn't make any sort of contact whatsoever.

They paused for a moment once they reached their destination. Zexion looked up through the glass door at the restaurant inside. He didn't really know how Quiznos had become their usual place to eat lunch, it just kind of happened. They'd gotten familiar with the employees and knew them by name. Behind the counter stood one of their favorite employees, Xion, who looked up and smiled when she saw them. Demyx cleared his throat and opened the door for Zexion before entering himself. Zexion braced himself for the rush of warm air and smells that wafted around him and kissed his frosty cheeks. The bell over the door tinkled. Xion seemed to sense the awkwardness surrounding the two like a cloud and didn't ask why they hadn't been around recently.

Zexion watched Demyx move on ahead and walk over to Xion before mumbling his order. Zexion gulped and followed suit. He saw Demyx get his sandwich and sit down at a table in the corner. Staring at the warm zig-zagging brick on the floor, Zexion sat himself opposite Demyx, some force making them avoid eye contact. The thick air grew thicker. Demyx leaned his head in his hand and stared down at the table. Zexion searched his mind for something, anything to say that might break the silence.

"Oh, I should get something to drink," he finally said, voice hardly a whisper but breaking the silence. Perfectly executed.

"Yeah, you should," Demyx agreed as the smaller got up.

"Do you want something? I could get som—"

"No, no, I'm fine," the blond interrupted. "That's alright."

A steely silence fell over them for a moment before Zexion took a shaky breath and turned toward the counter.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get my drink now," he said, and began to softly pad away.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Demyx said, and stuffed his head in his hands. He rubbed his temples and groaned. This had to be a bad idea. What a pointless, forced conversation.

A minute later and Zexion returned to table. Several times throughout that brief but oh-so-long minute, he caught himself sending furtive glances toward Demyx and having those glances returned. After said returned glances, he turned his gaze quickly away with cherry-red cheeks and pretended nothing happened. Zexion wondered if Demyx was still attracted to him, or if he ever was. He decided he didn't want to know the answer to that question.

When Zexion sat down again he didn't eat. He wasn't hungry or even sure how it was possible to be hungry in such a situation. It was impossible to think of his stomach with so many questions and what-if's clouding his mind. Another silence passed, and Zexion decided to speak up. He was wondering why he was the only one talking. Didn't Demyx have anything to say? He was the one who told him to meet.

"So, I take it you've found my notebook?" he asked, though the answer was obvious. He continued staring at his sandwich, hands folded in his lap. At least it was something.

"Yeah," Demyx replied, and Zexion found himself irked at the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

"You know, that's the same way I found your notebook," Zexion continued, hoping it wasn't a bad time to bring that up.

"Really? That's a coincidence."

Demyx poked his sandwich. Zexion took a sip of water.

"...Why did you ask me to meet you?"

Demyx looked straight at him and sighed, cheek still firmly planted in his hand.

"To talk."

"What do you want to talk about?"

He almost cringed at his own question.  _Good job, Zexion. Bravo. As if it wasn't glaringly obvious._

"Us."

Zexion stared at his hands. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, I read the entry."

"You probably hate me and wanted to formally tell me to fall down into a ditch, correct?"

Zexion remembered his letter was written in a spur of the moment, and he hadn't paid much attention to whether it made sense or not. It was pure, raw feeling; something he wasn't used to expressing. It probably sounded like a bunch of garbled, rambling mush to Demyx. It was so stupid and so un-Zexion. Then again, when was the last time he had acted like his usual self? He was so different. Spending months in love with a flighty blond can change a person.

"N-no, I actually wanted to, well," Demyx brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck. He took a deep breath. "I wanted to say that I... I want to try starting this over."

Zexion sat straight up, breath catching in his throat. His one exposed eye was wider than it had ever been, and his hands came up all on their own and covered his mouth in an attempt to obscure his ruby-red face.

"What?" he asked, and his voice was breathy, all air, and but a whisper.

"Well, your letter kinda got me thinkin', and, well," Demyx mumbled. "Even after all this time I still have feelings for you, and reading that letter let me know what was going through your mind before, well, the breakup."

When Zexion didn't say anything, Demyx looked around the room for something to catch sight of that might calm him down a little. No such luck. Zexion was still hiding behind his hands.

"Who knows," he continued. "Maybe that notebook just acted as catalyst for our relationship and brought us together or something. Does that even make sense?"

"It's likely," Zexion said, calming down. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at the light reflecting off his water bottle. "If it weren't for that notebook, I wouldn't have allowed you to get so close. I didn't know I even had the capacity to care so much."

Another silence slipped by, albeit a more deliberate, comfortable one. The last time Zexion had hidden back this much emotion was when Demyx first asked him out.

He felt like he was going to cry. A breath of fresh air invaded his lungs and he believed that if he were living in a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

"I'm sorry," Zexion said.

"We should probably eat."

"Oh... you're right."

Zexion's heart sunk. Demyx didn't even acknowledge his apology. Maybe he had said he was sorry too many times and it was annoying him. Zexion still didn't feel very hungry but he picked up his sandwich and took a bite anyway. He couldn't taste a thing. All he could do was frown and try to eat.

"By the way," Demyx began, mouth full. He swallowed before he went on. "Apology accepted."

Behind his sheet of hair, Zexion felt his eyes sting. He thought maybe if he just kept looking down, Demyx wouldn't even know he was about to cry. The thought crumbled when he involuntarily sniffled. Demyx looked right at him.

"Thank you," Zexion replied, voice cracking. His throat felt rough and his eyes were hot. Suddenly a rush of tears flooded his eyes and overflowed, and with the tears washed all his unspoken what-if's and insecurities at once. It felt good to break down, even if he knew they were not alone in that restaurant. He was ridding himself of years hiding himself from society, being outwardly emotionless and cold.

Then he felt something warm press against his face and realized it was Demyx. Demyx wiping away his tears, Demyx pressing his lips to his forehead, Demyx being there. When the blond pulled away Zexion finally looked up and their eyes locked as a small smile slid onto his face, only to be returned wider and brighter.

Zexion found he very quickly became quite starving. In no time at all he had his sandwich eaten and the pair were out the door. After months of instant ramen and only occasional home-cooked meals, Zexion was more malnourished than normal. He had become so used to cooking for two people with Demyx that he always made too much, but he ended up either throwing it out or losing his appetite and not eating.

The pair parted ways at the bus stop.

"You should come to my apartment after you get out of work," Demyx grinned as they waited for the bus to arrive.

"Oh?"

"Yep. It's not like I'm planning something or anything like that."

"Hmm, why don't I believe you...?"

"It was Axel's idea, I swear on my devilishly good looks."

"Of course, of course," Zexion played along, rolling his eyes. "Well, maybe I will. Although that depends what this thing you may or may not be planning is."

"It might be a get-together with Axel and Roxas with movies and snacks."

"You know I don't get out of work until midnight, right? I also have classes in the morning."

"You'll still come, though, right?"

Zexion looked up at the blond and was met with the biggest puppydog eyes he'd ever seen in his life. He sighed, defeated. It really didn't take much to sway him.

"Of course."

That moment the bus finally slowed to a stop in front of them and opened its doors. A flood of people was already entering and all the good seats would probably be taken by the time he got on. Zexion turned to Demyx before stepping on.

"See you then, Zexy," Demyx grinned.

Zexion grabbed the blond's jacket collar and pulled him down. Their lips met, but only chastely, briefly in a goodbye. When they pulled apart, Zexion had trouble keeping the smile off his face.

"See you, Dem," was all he said before climbing into the bus and riding away.

Despite being wedged between strangers, Zexion decided taking the bus probably wasn't so bad after all.

. • • • .


End file.
